


quit smoking

by candybank (pyxz)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, aka degenerate ashtray cxk and lung advocate student council pres zzt, listen to what i say cxk & quit smoking zzt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 33,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyxz/pseuds/candybank
Summary: cai xukun is a degenerate ashtray. student council president zhu zhengting wants a smoke-free campus.





	1. quit smoking

**Author's Note:**

> prompts by twitter missus @quonzhe @angelquanzhe #exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cai xukun is a degenerate ashtray. student council president zhu zhengting wants a smoke-free campus.

it's easy to spot him —pale thighs stark white against the black of too-ripped jeans, everything else too dark against the red brick walls of the fire exit. black-red-black-on-black-on-black. "cai xukun!" zhengting hiss-yells. xukun looks up, stares at him, then puts the cigarette back between his lips. he inhales deeply, then lifts his chin up to the sun to blow smoke into the air. and zhengting covers his dainty nose with a pretty hand as he makes his way down the few flights of metal stairs to get where xukun is. to take the cigarette from where it's pushed between his thumb and index finger, to throw it onto the ground and squish it with his polished little shoe a little too dramatically.

xukun watches him do it. lets him do it. looking at the put-out cigarette on the dirty ground with the tiniest pout. "... that's rude," he says, looking right at zhengting, who already feels like he should be on his knees, apologizing — among other things. zhengting bites his tongue so he won't roll his eyes, pushes his fingernails into his palms so he won't do anything he'll regret. (again.)

"the school's going smoke-free!" he hiss-yells again, tightly clutching a green THIS IS A SMOKE-FREE CAMPUS sign, cute frustrated little crinkle between his eyebrows that makes xukun smile. "how many times do i have to tell you?" he sighs heavily.

to which xukun replies by pushing his feet against the wall behind him, pushing himself off of leaning on it. putting a gentle hand on zhengting's forearm, tugging him just slightly closer. "tell me again," he says softly, all at once tugging too hard. and all at once, pressing zhengting up against the brick wall.

zhengting doesn't move. and he _won't_ admit that it's not for lack of effort.

xukun leans in closer, grin growing a little wider. until he's so, so, so close that zhengting can smell the smoke on his lips, the cheap tobacco between his teeth. until he can _taste_ it. xukun pressing their lips together — smoke drying mint, zhengting going weak. knees jelly, sighing softly. a complaint, an encouragement, a habit.

habits. they're just so, so, so hard to break.

and xukun kisses him softly, then he presses a little harder, a little harder, a little more. until he catches zhengting at just the right time — sometime between putting zhengting's hand on his shoulder, his hand on zhengting's hip, zhengting's hand stroking the back of his neck; zhengting pretending he doesn't know what he's doing — tongue slicking past lips and pushing past teeth, and putting the taste of burnt lungs and ashy air onto zhengting's tongue.

zhengting mewls, if only because he's a little out of breath. fingers somehow finding their way between xukun's deep-black hair, looking back too innocently when xukun pulls away. it always gets him: the swollen lips and the wide eyes and the pretending he doesn't know what he's doing. that xukun's making him do this. that he has no other choice.

because student council president zhu zhengting has control over everything but himself when he's with degenerate ashtray and troublemaker cai xukun.

because xukun knows that zhengting likes to play this game, and he'll play any game with zhengting if it means he'll keep moaning into xukun's mouth just like this. the way he is now, with xukun kissing him again, harder this time, pressing forward closer this time, more aggressively this time. fingers under his shirt, finding the protrusion of his hip bones, gliding up and down the side of his body. arm snaking around his body, pulling him closer, pushing their bodies together as if they'll never be close enough — and zhengting has to be as sorry about that as xukun is.

grip on xukun's hair tighter, eyes shut tighter — the momentum barely even breaking when zhengting drops the metal sign on the floor in favor of grabbing more of xukun towards him. because he keeps feeling as if they'll never be close enough, and he wants xukun to feel that he's so, so, so sorry for it.

to which xukun replies by pressing forward, backing zhengting up against the wall. with strong arms, haphazardly wrapping zhengting's legs around his waist, barely blinking when he hears bone hit brick.

"ow..." zhengting touches the back of his head when the kiss breaks for a breath. and he's pouting a little too much that xukun has to laugh.

"aw, baby," he chuckles, rubbing the spot that zhengting had touched. "kunkun's sorry," he says softly as he places a kiss against the corner of zhengting's mouth, which he knows is all he needs to do so that zhengting won't say a thing when his kisses start trailing down. down, down, down. to the curve of his jaw, to the crook of his neck, smearing cigarette smoke across zhengting's perfect skin as he goes. 

he knows it's all he needs to do so that zhengting won't say a thing when he sucks a bright red mark right smack on the side of his neck.

a faint "xukun..." is all that's heard in the wake of it.

xukun grins, kissing stars onto the underside of zhengting's ears when he whispers, "here? should i have you here, 'ting?" fingers already pulling at zhengting's belt.

"n-no," zhengting whispers back almost weakly, trying his best to gather half of his mind. blinking, sense of self returning. xukun hates when he gets that look in his eye. "no. ... i didn't even—"

xukun relents, and lets him back down on the floor one leg after another. trying to kiss him again, but zhengting has gathered enough of his brain for motor control. kissing back just barely, hand pressing against xukun's chest to push him back. xukun stops when the moment stops.

zhengting picks up the sign off of the floor and clears his throat as he straightens out his shirt. yet, he doesn't leave his place against the wall, pointedly looking to the side and away from xukun's eyes, which xukun takes as a victory. smooching zhengting's cheek, kissing him a last time.

"come over later," xukun tells him, just subtly palming zhengting over his jeans, biting his lip and grinning when zhengting squirms. chuckling because there's that little scrunch between his eyebrows again. xukun's hand wanders all the way up to zhengting's face, cupping his cheek in place as he kisses him again. as if he's convincing him, as if zhengting needs any convincing.

"ten?"

"mm-hm."

"okay."

and xukun knows that zhengting's expecting it, so he gives him a goodbye kiss. then lets him tug him back for another one. just a little sloppy, just a little ashy. just a little secret. just for the both of them.

 

——

 

the room smells like paper-wrapped green grass, like the sloppy hands of an experienced stoner. like lighter fluid running low, like the sun burning cold. a window cracked open, fresh summer night-air blowing in, smoke wisping and twisting and disappearing into nothing from where xukun blows it between his lips. zhengting, all pale in the moonlight and too pretty under the fluorescents climbing into bed with him, climbing up his body, sitting beside him.

zhengting crinkles his nose in disgust at the burning end of the white paper-stick stuck between xukun's teeth. xukun laughs at the way his face folds, and takes the joint out from his mouth to hold the sweeter end towards zhengting. zhengting stares at it. only stares at it. until xukun laughs again and takes it back, filling his lungs with it once more, holding the taste of it in his mouth as he pulls zhengting down by the nape of his neck.

kissing him. kissing smoke into his lungs. zhengting kisses too hard and inhales too much, and it's nauseating and intoxicating all in one breath.

he coughs all over xukun's face, and xukun answers with a laugh. pulling him down again, kissing him again. kissing him for a while until they have to breathe again. kissing him chastely, as if to say _please_. and zhengting, ever a sucker for politeness, hesitantly taking the little white thing between his fingers, putting it between his mouth, inhaling deeply and pushing candy air into his chest as if he has done this before.

without a trace of difficulty, zhengting blows smoke onto xukun's face. and they kiss in the sweetness of it, right in the middle of the fog, right in between the clouds. somewhere between lips pressing and eyes closing and teeth clacking, xukun takes the joint from zhengting's fingers and places it on the table. trades a habit for a habit. vice exchanged for a vice when he grabs zhengting's hips between his hands instead to pull him on top of him.

the motions turning, the night set into gear. zhengting, as if nothing can stop him now, kissing xukun softly in stark contrast with the way his hips are moving. xukun groans into his mouth, zhengting whimpers against his teeth. xukun scratches the pale skin of his back, ruffles his hair, pushes his head down. all too easily, zhengting fits xukun into his mouth. a kind of practiced ease in the way his fingers wrap around the base, his lips around the shaft, the way they move to the same rhythm. zhengting stroking with his hand what he can't fit into his mouth. all hollowed cheeks, and taking his time, and the tip of xukun's cock hitting the back of his throat at every right time that it should.

and zhengting, all kittenish licks, and looking up at xukun with big innocent eyes, smearing pre-cum across his own lips then swallowing xukun down again in a routine. all too slow, too slow, too slow — just slow enough, just perfect. 

and xukun deciding the time, and zhengting all too willing. still pretending. still, xukun wants to laugh at how zhengting is trying to be coy but he slicks himself up instead, and pushes into zhengting instead — stroking him as he bounces up and down, rolls his hips left to right. knowing how to do every little thing xukun wants him to.

and zhengting, doing exactly what xukun says, carried away by kisses to one side of the room — pressed up against a wall again, xukun lifting his legs up again. halfheartedly, "kun... don't..." as he always says, before his legs are wrapped around xukun's waist, and xukun is pushing back into him. slow rhythm building again, room burning again. zhengting's fingers wound tight around the dark locks of xukun's hair, pushing, pulling, gripping too tight. 

carpet burns on his knees and the edges of his palms, xukun carrying him back to bed to fuck him again. the last rounds are always on his back, always xukun stroking him as the motions go, planting blooming reds across his pale chest. always zhengting noticing the way xukun snaps his hips whenever he's near. always xukun coming in his mouth, or his cheeks, or his lips.

always zhengting left to his own devices, knowing exactly where everything is. grabbing the tissue box from the bedside drawer and pulling on his own clothes.

and xukun, having grabbed the joint from the floor where it had fallen off of the table: in the bathroom, running the tap.

and zhengting, pulling on his boxers, sliding under the covers.

xukun walks back and stops in his tracks at what he sees. 

"what are you doing?" he asks, as if this isn't a conversation they've had a million times over.

"i'mstayingthenight," answers zhengting, syllables all pressed together and pretending to close his eyes.

and xukun, grinning, walking back and slipping under the sheets beside him. "oh, are you?" he inhales, exhales. zhengting breathes out from his nose. xukun scoots over a little closer and tries to smooch the side of his face. zhengting chuckles.

xukun grins lazily when zhengting smiles, laying back down on his back to blow smoke up to the ceiling. almost second skin the way zhengting molds right to his body, head resting on his shoulder, xukun's arm around him. holding him closer, stroking his head, zhengting craning his neck up to give xukun a kiss good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual garbage ~FIN~


	2. firewalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you’re gone and i gotta stay high all the time to forget i’m missing you (aka xukun can’t smoke enough cigarettes to forget ziyi.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (aka zhengting's first encounter with the devil's lettuce)

everything comes from something. the tree from a seed, the sun from an explosion, xukun’s addiction from a heartbreak.

and it’s funny to hear, maybe sad. a heartbreak. like he’s a sad little teenager who has nothing better to do than have his heart broken—which he is. but, still.

but, still: ziyi broke his heart.

ziyi broke his heart on a Monday afternoon.

all Monday morning: big fight, and xukun this is over, and don’t talk to me again. all xukun thinking this is just another one of those things. just another one of those little fights they have that blow over with time and a joint and maybe sex.

all Monday noon: ‘yiyi it was a joke, come on i was joking, it was a joke, calm down. ‘yi, talk to me, come on, i was kidding, ziyi.

all Monday afternoon: you’re always joking xukun, and you wonder why i never take you seriously?

all drama, xukun skipping the rest of the day to lock himself in his room and smoke up every gram of grass he has stocked. getting too, too, too high. all cotton mouth, and yanchen, why doesn’t he love me? yanchen, why doesn’t anyone? – “xukun? are you okay? where are you? sir zhang was looking for you. should i come get you? tell me where you are.”

all yanchen is a good friend, he comes to xukun’s rescue. brings mcdonald’s entire menu to his doorstep. all xukun eating through hot tears and salty snot and wild confusion, and yanchen thinking it’s gross—because he has never seen xukun eat his own snot or show an emotion besides ridiculous.

all yanchen staying until xukun’s mother comes home from work at 11 pm. “thank you for taking care of him.” “no problem, miss cai.”

and he slides down the slippery slope of being forgotten too easily. slinking quietly into the backseats of all his classes, disappearing from view. once the school’s bright shining star who starred in all the plays and reenacted the most ridiculous scenes in the cafeteria, turned into an ashtray of a troublemaking degenerate.

enter: zhu zhengting, the sunshine.

and he means it like zhengting is an actual ray of light. when xukun thinks of zhengting, he thinks of the first few drafts of yellow streaming into the blinds of an early morning. not something you want to see, but something you’re thankful for anyway.

scene: xukun, suspended for two weeks for crimes unnamed. zhengting, student council president, visiting his house daily—even on Sundays. to check up on him, give him notes. he feels special until he finds out that zhengting does this for all twelve suspended students. then, he feels something else.

it’s a feeling that blossoms from deep inside his chest. a kind of warmth. like a flower. like admiring that someone can do that, be dedicated so much to something that doesn’t bring him any good.

then, he thinks, maybe zhengting reminds him of himself.

scene: the doorbell ringing. xukun opening the door. zhengting standing in the doorway with his usual pile of notes.

“hey, xukun!” he greets brightly, making xukun wonder how the glares never managed to scare him off.

“hey,” xukun answers now, as he didn’t before.

“th—“

“you ‘wanna come in?”

zhengting blinks. one, two, three, four. xukun counts.

“s-sure,” he stutters, looking surprised and glad. he steps in, asks if he should leave his shoes by the door. xukun says it’s alright. zhengting leaves his shoes behind anyway.

“water?”

his eyes widen a little more.

“sure. thank you.”

xukun fetches him water in their nicest-looking glass. sits beside him on the couch, stares at him as if he doesn’t know exactly what zhengting wants.

“so… these are the notes from today,” zhengting hands over the pile of papers, moving with a kind of unidentified nervousness. xukun places them down on the table. “it’s your last day of suspension,” zhengting starts bravely, ever the optimistic smile on his face. “are you excited to go back?”

you’re ridiculous, xukun thinks.

“yeah,” xukun says. “how’s school been?”

zhengting. ever more surprised by the second.

“school’s school,” he answers with a dorky little laugh. xukun smiles along, doesn’t say anything about it—about how it’s dorky, how it’s nice.

“oh, the student council’s starting the smoke-free campus initiative,” zhengting says. “everyone’s signed the forms and everything.

i… know you’re a smoker. and we have absolutely nothing against that. but we hope you can support us on this project?” what’s supposed to be a statement comes out as a question. by the time zhengting realizes, it’s a little too late to take it back.

xukun watches him for a moment, wondering again why zhengting does what he does.

“is this a capitalist thing?”

“…what…? um, no! just a health thing,” zhengting smiles. “smoking kills and all. we just want everyone to live their longest, healthiest lives as much as possible.”

xukun snickers. zhengting would have been offended if it had been anyone else.

“who would want that?” xukun asks rhetorically.

he’s almost annoyed by the concerned look zhengting throws at him. all eyebrows pushed together and wrinkled forehead. “are you okay, xukun? is there anything y—“

“have you ever smoked, ‘ting?”

taken aback by the sudden nickname, but forgetting to oppose it, he shakes his head no.

“what are you afraid of?” xukun questions.

“uh, cancer,” zhengting answers.

xukun resists the urge to pinch his cheeks, intead fetching a hand-dandy little metal box from one of the kitchen cupboards. he sits right back on the couch, and rolls up a joint in a lickety-split. folding out a paper, stuffing it with something green, licking it closed and lighting it up.

xukun looks at zhengting to see wide eyes full of shock and disbelief. he grins.

shock value. it’s always such a good high.

but zhengting hasn’t left, and he’s still watching, so xukun takes the joint between his lips and inhales the sweet air of it into his lungs. he closes his eyes, as if savoring the short moment, breathing in through his body, then exhaling through his mouth.

zhengting coughs and waves away the smoke near him.

and zhengting hasn’t left, so xukun takes his hand, positions the joint between his index and middle finger, and guides the end of it up to his lips. when he doesn’t open nor leave, xukun pushes his lip down with a thumb and parts his teeth just enough that the joint fits.

“suck,” he instructs.

breathe in.

now, breathe in again so it goes there.”

zhengting does exactly as he’s told, then exhales a small cloud of smoke between them. feeling conflicted, feeling nothing, feeling happy.

xukun takes another hit, then another. then, zhengting starts feeling irritated that he’s feeling nothing, but he feels too awkward asking.

as if his mind was read, xukun scoots over a little closer and places the joint before his lips again. this time, just a little fake-hesitant, zhengting wraps his lips around the little thing and does exactly as he did.

then the small awkwardness again. then xukun laughing. and zhengting feeling amused, among other things, because he has never heard xukun laugh before.

“you’ll feel it in a sec,” xukun tells him, “better not to overdo it.

the first time i smoked weed, i did too much. then i ended up throwing up and calling my mom. i told her i needed to be picked up from the party i was at because i drank almond milk and i was having an allergic reaction.” xukun chuckles, and as he spoke, zhengting had begun to feel lighter and lighter. happier. as if xukun was the best person, and this was the best story. and he was feeling fine.

noticing the blissed out glint in his eyes, xukun grins.

“good, huh? why would you want to take this away from the people?”

to this, zhengting answers with a slight look of guilt. clearing his throat, blinking his watery eyes.

“i-i… should go,” he says, licking his teeth, standing up.

“no, stay,” xukun teases, grabbing his wrist when he stands.

scene: time paused, zhengting blinking, xukun looking. zhengting, wordlessly, deciding. xukun, secretly, smiling.

“i’ll heat up the frozen dumplings,” xukun volunteers with a wide grin, biting his lip, hopping off of the couch and leaving the joint in zhengting’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta WHO we don't know her


	3. 24K magic remix havana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's something about his manners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> top ziyi has an overstimulation kink and xukun cries. yet another prompt from the devil's website, twitter dot com. set before they break up, ofc

“’yiyi, please,” xukun groans, nose scrunching, breathing heavy, shuddering at the feeling of nails scratching down his bare back.

ziyi doesn’t listen. instead, he grabs xukun’s hips tight and pushes hard into him. xukun chokes out a sob, eyes shutting tight into sparrow’s feet, gripping the leather couch underneath him and nearly breaking his nails.

speaking of bareback. xukun wonders if this would be any easier if ziyi used a condom or just a little more lube.

“ziyi—“ xukun exhales shakily, barely audible as ziyi starts moving his hips again. slow for all of a second before he’s jackhammering into a wrong spot.

it’s painful, but xukun has such a small frame of reference that he thinks it feels good. pain is good. this is just rough sex. can he just suck it up and bite his teeth?

so, xukun sucks it up and bites his teeth. sniffing when the tears come too much.

to which ziyi replies by finally slowing down. xukun thankful, already missing the friction, moaning softly at the feeling of ziyi still inside him.

barely catching his breathe before ziyi is pulling at his arms, pulling him back, pressing their bodies together. ziyi’s lips on his neck, the soft motions of his hips, xukun breathes lewdly out once again. throwing his head back to rest it against ziyi’s bones, exhaling in relief. exhaling the tension.

“’kunkun,” ziyi coos, kissing his neck, his jaw, the one hot tear track still bright on his cheek. “ _my_ baby,” he calls, fingers stroking xukun, xukun nodding weakly.

“ _yours_ ,” xukun says softly, teeth barely coming together to press the syllable out.

ziyi bites the lobe of his ear and tugs, squeezes a little too tight, plays with him a little too much, and xukun squirms. tears bundling up in the corners of his eyes again.

“i love you,” xukun says.

ziyi pushes him back onto his hands and knees.


	4. mack daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to Give Someone a Hickey: 15 Steps (with Pictures)

"so, do you... top?"

zhengting almost spits out his vitamin water.

"do i _what_?" he parrots, one hand held over his mouth as he tries not to drool and look disgusting.

but xukun, ever disgusting, tears a page right out of zhengting's handbook and pulls him forward by his necktie. zhengting has barely swallowed his beverage when their lips crash, xukun licking the radioactive flavor off his mouth. always too easily, zhengting gets into the kiss. or whatever xukun likes to call this: sucking the flavor of zhengting's food off of his tongue like he can't just eat actual food and drink actual drinks like a normal person.

vitamin water and secondhand smoke. zhengting thinks it's charming. he thinks he might be crazy.

"that tastes good. what is that?" xukun holds the other half of the plastic bottle in zhengting's hand. their fingers touch. zhengting blushes.

"nongfu," he replies, bravely, quietly, as xukun examines the plastic bottle, scooting over closer and leaning in closer. as inconspicuously as he can, pressing his lips softly onto the underside of xukun's chin.

xukun chuckles. zhengting blushes deeper. and xukun doesn't say anything so that zhengting won't stop.

and zhengting doesn't stop. pressing one kiss here, planting one kiss there, tickling xukun's neck with kisses and making him laugh. sucking softly on the protrusion of his adam's apple, kisses trailing sideways.

"give me a hickey," xukun tells him. "right there."

zhengting hesitates. sits up for a moment and stares at him. "why?"

xukun stares at his mouth, presses a soft kiss onto his lips by way of encouragement. "so my friends'll ask," he grins. 

and zhengting, speechless for a moment. then, as if it's an event, adjusting in his seat -- ending up plopped down on xukun's lap, bodies molded together like clay that refuse to separate. and he does as xukun says, tilting his head, pressing his lips to the same spot in the crook of xukun's neck, sucking a light red onto the side of his neck. then, he pulls back, and sits up to admire his handiwork.

"there," he says.

xukun pulls out his front camera to look. he squints.

"you can barely see it, 'ting," he pushes his lip up into a pout. and zhengting has half a mind to suck on it.

leaving no room for words, nor dilly-dallying or anything else, xukun cranes his neck up to bite a bruise onto the side of zhengting's neck.

"ow--" zhengting inhales sharply, exhales softly. head lolling to the side, fingers in xukun's hair, as xukun trails kisses lower. and xukun wants to kiss his shoulder so he starts undoing the buttons of zhengting's shirt. taking too much effort, zhengting brings up a hand to stop xukun.

"no..." he says gently, "i can't today."

and he finds their eyes locked. and he wonders if this is awkward. if xukun won't like him after this. if this will make xukun upset.

the moment bottlenecks. xukun smiles.

"okay," he says, letting zhengting re-do the two buttons of his shirt and tighten his necktie.

"sorry--"

"about what?"

zhengting stares at him for all of a moment, feeling his heart melt into goo. he holds xukun's face between his hands and kisses him quick.

xukun scrunches his nose at the whole cheesiness of it, turning his attention to the little bundle of purple-red on zhengting's neck instead.

curious to see what he's looking at, zhengting takes his phone from his hand to look.

"XUKUN!" he gasps, scandalized and shocked and turned on all in one breath -- unable to stop staring at it, unable to move.

"mmhm?" xukun tries to start macking on his neck again, but zhengting pushes him back.

"wait," zhengting says, panic showing on his cheeks. "i--"

"just wear a turtleneck," xukun tells him, taking his wrist and holding it down so he can kiss him without being stopped. "you look good in one anyway."

 

\---

 

zhengting comes to a 37-degrees-celsius school day in a white turtleneck.

xinchun laughs because he knows what it means. justin laughs when xinchun tells him what it means. chengcheng laughs when justin tells him what xinchun had told him. campaign manager wenjun worries for his health, tells quanzhe to buy five bottles of water and carry it near zhengting at all times.

xinchun won't stop laughing as quanzhe dabs a tissue onto zhengting's damp forehead. 

"who even did _that_?" xinchun hollers. "i didn't know you were so busy, zhengting."

"did _what_?" zhengting denies. "i just felt like wearing a turtleneck, okay."

but xinchun doesn't buy a single word. and he whispers something into justin's ear, that justin whispers into chengcheng's ear, and zhengting watches them all burst out into laughter at the exact same time.

"come on, 'lemme see it," xinchun insists. "it's pretty big, isn't it? is it purple? ooooh--zhengting, you FREAK."

zhengting pulls the turtleneck over his mouth, and stares pointedly at the table when he sees xukun enter the cafeteria from the corner of his eye.

xinchun babbles endlessly, and zhengting blushes and sweats from underneath his turtleneck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zhengkun love each other ty (this chapter is set in present time btw what's chronology this fic doesn't know her)


	5. papillon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he thinks, in the moment, that maybe the church was right: tattoos and piercings do absolutely no good.

"wait, you..."

"yeah."

"... let me see again."

xukun sticks his tongue out as requested, sunlight glinting off the little ball of metal stuck onto his tongue. zhengting looks at it, leans in closer to look at it even more, leans in so close that his eye is almost touching xukun's tongue. and this is one of those things that would have made him think--key phrase: would have--would have made him pause, stop, reconsider, think. tattoos and piercings. he has never understood them, has never grown up in an environment that even tried to. his body is a temple is what his parents' church says, but zhengting can barely hear the pastor's sermons over the sound of xukun's grin.

xukun curls his tongue back into his mouth and closes his lips. and zhengting stares at him. like this, it seems as if nothing about him has changed. still the same red lips and pale face and black hair. but he sticks his tongue out in the very next moment, and zhengting's heart jumps and skips again.

he wonders if he'll ever get used to this.

"... can you... i mean... does it... come ... off...?" he asks, trying to tiptoe around the subject as carefully as he can so he won't say anything wrong.

not that he doesn't think xukun won't forgive him if he says anything wrong. it's just that all that time apologizing can be more time spent like this: curled up on xukun's lap, staring too close at his face.

"yeah," xukun answers coolly, not nearly as concerned about his own body as zhengting seems to be. 

and he looks at zhengting now, watches the tension in his brown eyes--the curiosity. the endlesness of it.

xukun grins, and softly pinches zhengting's jaw between his fingers before he kisses him. all helping his mouth slightly open with a finger, not pausing for a single second before he's sticking his tongue down zhengting's throat. all too much tongue and too dirty too soon, too wet and hot and sloppy. exactly how zhengting likes it--xukun knows.

and zhengting can barely swallow air fast enough to breathe, but he shuts his eyes and tries. always trying his very, very best for xukun.

mind rushing numb for a moment, before he catches momentum. tilting his head just slightly one way, so he can kiss xukun back. and it's odd, almost fragile, the occasional bump of something cold between the kiss. like machine in a body, too hard to be flesh. yet, zhengting sucks on it all the same. moaning softly into xukun's mouth all the same, swallowing the taste of him all the same.

and it's sloppy, the string of saliva connecting them when they part. xukun laughs when zhengting kisses it off of his lips.

"not so bad, right?" xukun surveys, wiping drool off of the corners of his mouth with his thumb. zhengting cleans himself up a little with the sleeve of his shirt. and xukun promptly laughs at his lack of a response.

"that good?" he raises an eyebrow. zhengting stares pointedly at his mouth.

xukun sticks his tongue out like a child again, just for dramatic effect.

while zhengting's lost in though, xukun looks to his wrist watch. thirty minutes to zhengting's meeting, he decides, is enough time.

"what are you..."

"it'll be good," xukun promises, slipping off of the couch onto his knees, leaning over to work the button and the zipper off zhengting's jeans.

"xukun--"

but the halfhearted protest comes too late. xukun already has him in his hands. too sensitive too soon, zhengting's cock is hard in xukun's mouth under a second. squirming, trying not to, body twisting, trying to stay still--zhengting balls his hands up into fists and lays them uselessly at his side, head leaning back against the couch, eyes shut tight, as xukun's head bobs up and down around him. wet, hot, cold scraping all at the exact same time.

"grabmyhair," xukun instructs in a breath, swallowing zhengting down again in the very next moment.

and zhengting does just as told, finding is just as helpful as placebo: trying to tear xukun's hair from its roots.

and zhengting feels it everytime xukun presses his lips together, and goes up and down, this way and that--the cold metal thing on his tongue, brushing this way, scraping that. strangling a groan from his throat, xukun vibrating in a laugh around him.

he thinks, in the moment, that maybe the church was right: tattoos and piercings do absolutely no good.

and it comes just as it should. feels like salvation, in a church boy's words. but zhengting tries not to think so much of god as he watches xukun lick up what he wants. god deserves better than that, he thinks to himself as he gingerly buttons and zips his jeans back up. xukun comes back, hands smelling of soap, putting zhengting back on his lap as if nothing had happened.

"good, right?" he says, and metal is scraping his teeth again too soon.

 

\---

 

"i've always wanted to get one," zhengting says, placed in the passenger seat of xukun's car like he doesn't belong there, jacked up on the adrenaline xukun's very presence seems to feed him. 

he chews on his lip as he talks, and xukun notices it from the corner of his eye. it lets him know that zhengting must be very serious, because zhengting only ever condones bad behavior and ugly habits in the face of absolute desperation.

and he so loves being the posterboy for desperation.

xukun reaches across the space between them to hold his hand. zhengting vigilantly swats his hand away and tells him to focus on the road, this isn't an automatic xukun, keep your hand on the wheel and ready for the gear shift at all times!

a chuckle and a chewed lip later, they stop at the parking lot of a low-rise building lined with shops completely unrelated to each other. a deli stop next to a pawn shop next to a tattoo parlor. xukun holds zhengting's hand as they walk in. zhengting lets him.

and he savors it. the little things he never gets to do.

xukun greets the guy at the counter like an old friend. and zhengting feels thankful that it's empty in the middle of the week, in the middle of the day. he feels bad: running out of school with the excuse that he's buying supplies for student council secretary wenjun's surprise party when really he only drove across town with xukun to... do _this_.

what this is is _quick_. sitting in a chair, hearing loud buzzing, feeling his skin being pricked. alternating between too-loud buzzing and too-much pricking, and xukun kissing his forehead when tears well up in the corners of his eyes. and xukun laughing, the machine buzzing, metal pricking--

"you're done," says the stocky man sitting beside him, putting away his tools, cleaning up after them. he points them towards a mirror, and zhengting feels the pricking up to the very soles of his feet when he walks. ghost sensations shooting down to his toes from where he'd had his hip inked.

holding the hem of his pants where they've been situated too low the entire time, zhengting stares at the red-and-black on his skin. just over his bones. in disbelief that he's not in absolute disbelief of what he has done. he thinks of nothing much, just stares at the curves and the lines, and--xukun stands behind him, staring too, squeezes his arm.

"looks good,'ting," xukun chuckles, eyes where zhengting's are, smooching his ear to whisper, " _sexy_ ," because he knows it'll make zhengting blush.

zhengting risks the pain and tries to hit xukun with one hand--an attack barely missed. xukun laughs as he avoids it.

" _what_? it _is_ ," he says, completely ignored as zhengting listens very, very carefully to what the stocky man is telling him about creams and application times and infections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so RUSHED yikes i'm s*rry


	6. zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "my parent's aren't home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read this while listening to quit by cashmere cat (ft ariana grande) btw :,p

zhengting comes to him that afternoon all giddy, tugging on his arm, biting his lip. saying kunkunkunkunkunkun let'sgolet'sgolet'sgo comeoncomeoncomeon. _my parent's aren't home_. zhengting sneaks him into the passenger seat of his dad's sleek silver benz somehow, then revs them right out of school into the highway. zhengting zips past city streets and afternoon asphalt to reach his family's tiny neighborhood hill. a handful of houses lined equidistant to each other, a gated community halfway-rich. houses just almost impressive.

xukun knows (from listening closely to all of zhengting's school assembly speeches and lazy pillow talk) that his father is a lawyer and his mother is a doctor, so he thinks this is typical. it doesn't surprise him: how the zhu property isn't as insane of a mansion as the fan's, but it's _something_ to look at. the walls and the roofs and the garden all built from hardwork, sparkly clean by way of blood and sweat. zhengting parks the car carefully into the garage, passing garden furniture toppled over by strong winds and a small basketball court in the open front yard.

the engine stops whirring with the click of a key, and zhengting isn't any less excited than he was when they started their trip.

"come on!" he practically shouts as he grabs his things and locks the car and opens the wide wooden front doors of the house all in one breath. it's a heavy door, xukun notices when he pushes at it.

it's a nice house, xukun notices when he walks in. 

zhengting locks the door shut and grabs xukun's hand without thinking--dragging him across shiny wooden floorboards, setting a thousand tiny firecrackers ablaze in his tummy. the way zhengting's holding his hand makes his insides feel all funny. if he loves it, xukun says nothing about it. only lets himself be ragdoll-ed across the house, up the stairs, into a room.

zhengting's room.

it registers just a second too late, just right after he takes in the white cotton sheets and the gray-and-white-and-soft blue everything that just seems so very... _zhengting_. everything clean, pristine. where xukun would have tossed his backpack (if he even decided to bring one) to the floor, zhengting places his bookbag neatly onto a leather swivel chair rolled under what looks like the cleanest study table xukun has ever seen.

it's shocking, and not at all. xukun is far too busy looking around to notice how out of place he looks. all black-and-red in a sea of white linen.

out of place a place too familiar whenever he's walking anywhere with zhengting.

while zhengting disappears behind a door, xukun looks over the books and trinkets stocked neatly in his shelves. zhengting comes back a moment later, out of his green school-day polo shirt and slacks. in grays sweats and the comfiest-looking cotton t-shirt. blue. he looks like he doesn't belong anywhere else but here.

indulgently, teasingly, xukun drags his gaze down-and-up zhengting's body. zhengting pretends not to notice.

pretend, pretend. his favorite game.

so, xukun pretends that he hasn't noticed the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room.

"so..." he starts, padding over to the mattress, dragging his fingers across the soft whiteness of it before sitting down, "this is your bed..." he winks.

zhengting rolls his eyes and plops down beside him. they don't even think now before they kiss. just lips pressing, gravity pulling. all chaste and dirty.

"yeah," zhengting continues the conversation as if nothing had happened, biting his lip, looking at xukun. finding that he doesn't have much to say. finding that he doesn't need to asy much, because xukun can see just how excited and happy he is by the half-smile that won't leave his face. the glitter in his eyes.

"what's that face?" xukun chuckles softly, tilting his head and staring.

"what face?"

"this face," he answers, holding zhengting's cheek in one hand, brushing a thumb across his cheek. laughing again, actually waiting for an answer this time.

"my face?" zhengting reaches up to touch his hot cheek.

"the one and only."

"... i'm just... happy you're here," zhengting answers simply, still staring at xukun. finding that he can't stop staring.

and xukun can't stop watching the dimming daylight glitter in zhengting's eyes either, so he leans forward to kiss him instead.

zhengting surprises him by pressing too far forward, making him fall on his back. laugh a little. kiss again. zhengting kisses him endlessly, in every which way. lips, lips, lips. as if he's trying to press their bodies closer, closer, closer. zhengting tickles xukun's face with kisses. his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin all covered in puckered lips. he scrunches his face, and laughs when zhengting laughs.

kissing him once, twice, before taking his cheek in his hand and slowing them into the night. xukun presses one soft kiss onto his lips before he kisses deeper. just as slow as he is sweet, just as deliberate as he is uncareful. they kiss until their lungs run out of air. and xukun finds himself staring at zhengting for a heartbeat too long.

still cupping his face, still caressing his cheek. when xukun catches his own thumb brushing ever so gently across the peach fuzz of zhengting's cheek, his heart jumps and drops and tumbles right into his stomach and out of his guts. he swallows, yes just a little wide.

"let's smoke," he says.

a small frown finds zhengting's mouth. he sits up slightly. "... not here... it'll smell."

"in your shower."

"what?"

not another word until they're locked in zhengting's bathroom. a modest few square feet of a bathtub and a shower opposite each other, with a marble sink littered neatly with bathroom necessities between them. 

zhengting sits cluelessly on the edge of the bathtub where xukun had situated him, and wonders, as he watches xukun stuff a towel underneath the door and turn up the shower and the bathtub to full heat, if the boy has gone crazy.

then, xukun is sitting beside him. the edges of the bathtub wide enough for him to sit crisscross-applesauce. he takes out his trusty little metal container from his jeans' pocket and sets out the necessary things. the usual. zhengting has seen xukun do this more times than he'll admit in confession.

paper rolling out, green going in. xukun licks the edges to seal it, looking up at zhengting as he does so. half a grin on his lips as he finishes swiping his tongue across the white. he does this twice, and lights both joints. inhaling-and-exhaling once, twice, before moving around again with the joint between his teeth. xukun pours shampoo and drops half a bar of soap into the water.

zhengting only realizes what's happening once he sees steam. he has read enough science books to understand this, at least.

almost unabashedly, hesitation only faked, zhengting takes the other burning thing between his own lips. inhaling-and-exhaling like the pro xukun has turned him into. feeling the pleasant feeling of it fill his lungs. his heart. his head. he barely notices when the bathtub faucet stops running. eyes closed, inhaling-exhaling, pretending. xukun watches him. watches the calmness settle on the pretty features of his face, watches beads of sweat form on his forehead and fall.

he chuckles, helping zhengting out of his sweaty shirt generously. if only because he cares about linen. if only to stare at him, at how nice zhengting's pale skin and bone-carved muscles look in the fog. 

"take your shirt off too," zhengting says, almost whiny. lashes fluttering open to peek at what xukun does, expecting him to do exactly as he had asked.

for what would zhu zhengting be without his expectations?

xukun stifles a chuckle behind a grin and does as zhengting asks. he crawls over, cornering zhengting against the pretty-pale tiles of his own bathroom, shower head filling the silence, fog between them made thick with tension. xukun inhales, zhengting holds his breathe. just barely a bit of an inch away from a kiss when it rings:

 _DING-DONG_. 

"..."

"..."

_DING-DONG. DINGDONG-DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDING--_

zhengting pretends not to sigh. only two people ever ring his doorbell in such quick succession, after all.

"it's justin and chengcheng," he says.

xukun backs away just slightly. zhengting almost winces at the sudden distance.

"were you... expecting them?"

"no," zhengting answers firmly, pretending not to sigh again as he puts his joint down and makes his way off of the bathtub's edge.

"where are you going...?" 

"...to answer the door?"

"just play dead, maybe they'll go away."

 _DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG_ \--" _ZHU ZHENGTING!_ " comes justin's voice from all the way to the front door.

although xukun is mildly impressed, zhengting is hardly surprised that justin's voice can get so loud.

"i'll be right back," zhengting promises weakly.

"i doubt," xukun shoots back, taking a long, hard inhale fromt the joint between his fingers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is THIS tbh idk proofread who


	7. the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i got a bad boy, i must admit it (you got my heart, don’t know how you did it—  
>  _i love the way you make me feel_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/2 joint ariana special chapters. play the way by ariana grande while reading to get the full effect :')

"i got you something," xukun tells him on his own birthday.

zhengting is caught off guard, because he had been waiting for after school to give xukun his present. but it's only lunchtime, and they're hiding in the fire exit again, and xukun is fishing something out of his bag, and zhengting is worried that xukun thinks he isn't thoughtful or caring or loving.

xukun pulls out something soft and rectangular wrapped in brown paper. no writing, no ribbon, no nothing, he hands it to zhengting to open.

zhengting carefully pulls back the paper, and almost as immediately pulls it back over what's inside.

"xukun--" he hisses, hitting xukun's arm. "is this... _**weed**_?"

"it was expensive too."

"we're at school, _jesus christ_! i'm not trying to get _expelled_!"

"fine. i'll hold onto it for you," xukun takes the package from him, and zhengting doesn't stop him when he stuffs it back in his bag.

despite zhengting's flushed and worried face, xukun grins. "am i the best boyfriend or what?"

"the best _what_ \--" zhengting sputters.

"boyfriend," xukun repeats coolly.

"who said you're my..."

"zhengting, you suck my dick like thrice a week. i think that at least _qualifies_ me to be _potentially_ your boyfriend."

zhengting blinks, caught completely off-guard yet again. staring at the ground intently before xukun slings his bag over his shoulder and tilts zhengting's chin with a finger.

"it's my birthday," xukun says, "give me this at least today."

"...give you what?"

xukun answers him with a smooch to the mouth, and zhengting can't help the smile that stretches across his lips as he presses a kiss back. then they snowball into kissing and kissing and kissing, and forgetting that the earth is moving around them. xukun's back to the wall, zhengting pressing forward, whispering giggles through pursed lips and bright teeth.

"happy birthday," zhengting says, eyes barely fluttering open, too busy kissing xukun again. almost too easily, his arms wrap around xukun's neck. xukun's arms around his waist. heads tilting, mouths pressing, as if their bodies are fitting into each other like perfect puzzle pieces.

all the trappings of young love.

and it makes zhengting feel as light as air, as if he's fluttering across clouds, feet hovering above the earth. and it makes xukun feel so happy that he can't stop smiling, can't help laughing, and zhengting pauses for a moment to look.

"i love your smile," zhengting says. xukun's stomach twists and turns--if it's butterflies fluttering about or puke threatening to come out, he isn't sure.

"my smile?" xukun replies intelligently, so lost in zhengting's eyes that he forgets to think of anything witty. he just smiles again, and laughs again, and gives zhengting what he wants because it feels like second skin. giving and giving and giving zhengting the many, many, many things that he asks for.

zhengting feels so giddy that he bounces up and down the tips of his toes as he wraps his arms tighter around xukun's neck and kisses him again.

 


	8. quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet (but i can't hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine—  
> i can't quit you, _i can't quit you_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/2 ariana special chapters oof. i've recc'd it before BUT listen to quit by cashmere cat ft ariana grande for the full effect

"what's with him?" whispers xinchun into justin's ear. from across the table, zhengting pretends not to hear nor see him. xinchun's always whispering everything to justin, anyway. zhengting pretends this is just another one of those things. pretends he didn't hear what he heard.

pretends, pretends, pretends.

justin whispers something back, then they're whispering back and forth as they always are. chengcheng sitting beside justin, always looking at them curiously and trying not to look like he's looking, then letting his nosiness get the best of him. tapping justin on the leg insistently and asking about what they're talking about.

then, the three of them are whispering back and forth. the buzzing of air between their noisy mouths getting too loud for zhengting to ignore.

silence falls on the table at the sound of chair legs screeching against the ground. zhengting, with a heavy hand, grabbing his bag and stomping away.

he can barely feel his thumbs when he smashes letters and words into his phone screen. he can barely feel his brain when he hits send.

' _bleachers :(_ '

xukun cuts a remedial math class.

against the sky, out of plain sight, they hold hands behind zhengting's very large and bulky backpack. the bleachers powder blue against the aggressive redness of the afternoon.

and where zhengting would usually be babbling about subjects and clubs and homework and people, he's quiet. barely even twiddling their fingers together.

"what's wrong?" xukun finally asks, lacing their fingers a little tighter.

zhengting won't even chew on his lip or hold his hand back.

"my dad caught me smoking," zhengting answers plainly, voice the blandest xukun has ever heard it.

quiet for a moment. xukun trying to formulate an answer that won't come across as spoken eyeroll, zhengting taking his hand away.

xukun almost gasps. he stares at zhengting instead. wheels and cogs turning quickly as they tend to outside math class, eyebrows furrowing just slightly. it's like he already knows what this is, where this is headed--of course he does--but he's trying to drive through the road with his eyes closed. liking zhengting enough to want to give him everything he wants and knowing himself well enough to know that this isn't something he condones. that he's not a fan to any fire.

"... are you upset?" he asks, feeling so stupid for asking that it almost makes him angry.

even more when zhengting doesn't move an inch.

"are you upset with me?" xukun clarifies.

finally, zhengting moves. he turns to xukun, shooting back quickly. " _you're_ the one who gave it to me."

xukun lets out one incredulous laugh.

"it was a _gag_ gift, mostly," he snaps back just as fast, words as thoughtless as thoughtless gets, "and, _i_ didn't tell you to roll that joint and smoke it, by the way--in your own room. _while_ your parents were home."

zhengting doesn't move a muscle. not a teeth nor a lip. too proud to even grit his teeth, xukun guesses.

xukun stares at him long and hard, waiting for him to say something, speaking himself instead when nothing comes. he leans back against the metal behind him, voice easing to it's usual quiet, making sure zhengting is looking at him when he speaks,

"you know you can't keep blaming me for every bad thing that you do."

zhengting's eyebrows furrow, and xukun almost laughs.

and he still won't say anything, but xukun has run out of things to say.

he sighs quietly, gaze breaking. already too tired from the weight of zhengting's stare. xukun looks at the tips of his shoes.

"you don't even tell your closest friends about us," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

and zhengting's expression softens into surprise before it hardens back into shock. misunderstanding trying so hard to look the part. zhengting too smart to play the role, and too stupid for it.

"what do you expect from me?

"what do _you_ expect from _me_?"

zhengting speaks too thoughtlessly, xukun answers too quickly. the moment holds their stares too tightly, and for all of a moment zhengting feels as if he's being suffocated. all world breaking around him, not knowing what's happening. 

and xukun, all heavy heart and tired eyes. the suddenness of it breaking through all armor.

xukun starts picking up his bag. zhengting panics, but he doesn't say anything, so xukun does,

"seems a little much," xukun says as if he's throwing the words into the open air, already sounding like he doesn't care. zhengting panics, but he doesn't say anything.

and xukun. slinging his bag onto his back, hating that he had started carrying around an actual bag with actual pencils and actual notebooks inside because zhengting had told him to. he sighs halfway a laugh at a funny thought.

"i'm not a blow-up doll, zhengting," he snorts, gone the next moment. just as fast as a summer breeze.


	9. circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> g.soul

brain foggy and judgment clouded, all zhengting remembers is this: zeren had told him that he was being stupid in the best way possible.

"zhengting, that wasn't very smart," zeren had said, sitting on the floor of zhengting's bedroom, staring at a history report they never planned to do in the first place. by then, zhengting had been moping around for days (he would have argued and said that it felt like years.) and he hadn't smiled at much of anyone. and wenjun, worried for the campaign, he had encouraged zeren to help. "i mean, for a consistent honor student, you weren't being very smart."

zhengting had stared at him and narrowed his eyes. "you've been spending too much time with wenjun," he had said, "you're starting to sound like him."

a commentary that had been ignored. and zhengting, he had been both annoyed and thankful for the intervention. and he had thought that zeren really was the best person to talk to about... _the deep stuff_ , as they called it.

"sorry," zhengting had answered to the silence, looking towards the ground, chewing on the insides of his cheeks. zeren had been patient enough to wait until, with a small nod of the head, zhengting told him not to.

"you like him," zeren had said, almost making zhengting flinch. speaking it, hearing it out loud--it always made things seem more real. "just go to him, apologize and tell him that."

which is why first thing monday morning finds him like this: sprinting down every hallway he can find, running the entire campus parameter. "have you seen zeren?" "is zeren here already?" "do you know where zeren is?"

zhengting finds him in the broadcasting room, copying wenjun's math homework.

"zeren," zhengting says urgently, rudely interrupting. zeren acknowledges him wordlessly, eyes not once leaving the paper in front of him. pen continuously scribbling. 

"he's under the bleachers," zeren tells zhengting before he even opens his mouth to ask.

zhengting stares at him. feeling the eyes on him, zeren pauses to look up.

"that's what you were going to ask, right?"

zhengting doesn't answer, so zeren looks at his friend's pretty wrist watch.

"you have twenty-three minutes." whether he says it because he cares about his friend's well-being or because he wants to be left alone, only he knows.

either way, zhengting dashes out. white shoes not meant for running creasing at the rubber soles, barely minding that the soccer field is mostly grassless dust. white shoes not meant for dirt all brown and dirty.

he stops at the corner, just right underneath the bleachers. just right where the sun steps into the shaded underside of the chairs.

mouth full of words, thinking of so much that his mind takes a moment to register the two tall figures tucked into one corner of the bleachers. standing around--smoke all around them, coming out of their pursed mouths. facing halfway towards him is xukun, back turned towards him is wang ziyi (zhengting knows by the trademark ponytail.)

so, zhengting stops. legs frozen, numb from his knees all the way down. he swallows and forgets, and xukun looks up. looks at him. right at him.

zhengting swallows again. dryly now, because all the words he had stuffed into his mouth have vanished. it's just air now. unclean, smoky air.

and xukun stares at him for all of ten seconds. long enough that his companion wonders what he's looking at, and looks behind him to see what it is. who it is. but neither the expression on xukun's face nor ziyi's changes at all. xukun's stare flutters back to the joint between his fingers, which he puts back into his mouth to inhale. as if practiced sync, ziyi does the exact same thing. they inhale at the exact same time, and exhale at the exact same time. and they stare at zhengting for the longest time (three seconds seems much.)

ziyi looks at xukun then, who doesn't look at anything else before dropping the joint to the ground and putting it out with the sole of his shoe. then, he's walking away. and ziyi does the exact same thing before walking right after him.

to the opposite direction they go, all black everything and hands in their pockets. zhengting confused and hurt and too many emotions at once, just starting to get the feeling back in his legs.

 _ring!_ goes the bell. then he's gingerly dashing to class, feeling worse for wear and looking totally fine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so U*GLY but i tried doing a long chapter and it ended up rotting in my drafts??? so its short drabbles forever


	10. let's get lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sophiya, DAWN

the fastest way to a point is through a straight line--this much xukun has learned in physics--but _spiraling_ , he believes, is far easier.

it's easy to spiral from skipping homework to skipping tests to skipping class for an hour to a couple to a day to a week. by two fridays since zhengting broke his heart, he's guzzling grape jelly juice and stuffing potato chips into his mouth in ziyi's living room when he should be in history. and ziyi should be in art. and there are a million reasons why he shouldn't be where he is, but he is. and xukun takes another hit through a mouthful of crisps.

"swallow your food, _jesus_."

"i'm always swallowing give me a break," xukun quips, "and my name's xukun, not jesus. i know, i _know_ \--it's easy to confuse."

ziyi shakes his head and chuckles as he sits on the sofa and flips the television on. 

"no," xukun immediately objects. "so noisy."

so ziyi turns it off for his sake, and they smoke in silence for some moments. xukun chewing, ziyi breathing. xukun picking up the half-eaten grilled cheese ziyi had made for him, taking a bite of it,

"oh my god," he groans, rolling his eyes and closing them shut as if that'll help him taste it better, "this is so good."

xukun barely sees the grin on ziyi's face when he talks: "well, if you're looking for a way to thank me, i've got a couple of ideas," he says.

and xukun fixes him with a look. "it's a _sandwich_ , ziyi," he says, biting down on the sandwich in question, watching with wide brown eyes as ziyi scoots closer ever so smoothly. as ziyi places one hand on his thigh, and the other on the sofa's backrest. as ziyi leans in.

xukun's first reaction is to push his hand away and chuckle. "this is--" he laughs tiredly, putting a hand on ziyi's shoulder to keep them apart, "mm-mm. this is not happening."

"why?" ziyi pushes, grin widening just half an inch, eyes narrowing slightly. "you're afraid zhengting will find out?"

to which xukun freezes, staring back at him with red eyes. now ziyi is almost close enough that he can feel his breath on his mouth, so xukun scoots away a centimeter.

"what?"

ziyi lets it go with a laugh. "your boyfriend," he says as if it's a reminder, snatching the sandwich off of the plate to finish it himself, "right?"

to which xukun pauses, trying to gather the bits and pieces of his mind that he had scattered.

hours later, air still foggy, he can't remember if he ever answered.

days later, smoke still thick, he stops talking to ziyi about the weather so he can stare at zhengting from too many feet away. 

he waits for all of a moment, or two, for zhengting to move. walk. run. say something. scream. but xukun watches him stand in place all pretty wide eyes and cute lips, and he can't remember why he ever expected anything more for himself.

so, he kills his joint out of respect. and, walks away without another word out of fear.


	11. something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> george, gang haein

"zhengting, this is so gay," yanchen exhales loudly, half-heartedly, tediously, artfully and so very gayly folding another piece of colorful paper into a tiny star, "and i've had sex with men."

zhengting pointedly ignores him and keeps scribbling love notes tirelessly.

"i don't have enough money to buy him a star," zhengting says besides the point, not once looking up from his work. 

"you know..." yanchen takes a handful of origami stars and dumps them into a large jar almost halfway full of them. "you could just talk to him. i don't think he's into..." he pauses again, looking at all the color and paper around them, "... _grand_ displays of affection."

but zhengting, undeterred. he shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

"he likes to make people think that," he mumbles, "but, okay--" zhengting pauses for the first time in an hour to look at yanchen, "okay. you know how he says he hates flowers as gifts because ' _what am i supposed to do with flowers they're useless you could just get me food instead or a pencil because i'm always losing my pencils_ '?"

yanchen nods, bites his tongue so he won't say that zhengting's starting to look like a crazy person. all red eyes at 2 am and messy hair.

"well--one time i got him flowers because he aced his english test--" zhengting pauses for a second, all hot flashes. sticky notes on body parts and betting clothes on correct answers because xukun says he's a " _visual learner_ ", and he has to swallow to get the taste of missing xukun out of his mouth. 

"...and?"

zhengting blinks, as if _that_ will help him remember what he was saying. he clears his throat. "i got him flowers. and--" zhengting cuts off mid-sentence again, leaving yanchen hanging again, when he suddenly remembers how the story ends.

' _and the three weeks that followed were the best of my life._ ' zhengting blinks up at yanchen instead of finishing his story.

and yanchen, always quick on the uptake. he laughs and pats zhengting's hand. 

"okay, zhengting," he pacifies. "i believe you."

zhengting pouts and goes back to his vigorous scribbling. and yanchen goes back to folding. and it's all pen on paper, and airconditioner whirring, and quiet until,

"AH--"

zhengting immediately looks up, only to see blood dripping off a cut on yanchen's finger. almost too quickly, he's off his chair and back in a second with a big first-aid kit. all trained for disaster, fixing his friend up in a jiffy. 

"be more careful," zhengting says softly like the true Red Cross Certified Volunteer that he is as he wraps a band-aid around the cleaned wound. and yanchen knows it's supposed to be soothing, but it only makes him feel like smacking zhengting's head.

up until zhengting kisses the band-aid, anyway. to which yanchen replies by yanking his hand away and actually (lightly, gently) smacking the side of his head.

"thanks," yanchen says anyway, receiving a dorky laugh and a slap on the hand as he snatches a red lollipop from one of the first-aid kit's many compartments.

 

\---

 

they fall asleep on the floor of yanchen's room, over colored paper and empty pens and a glass jar three-fourths full. yanchen wakes up just slightly disoriented, head on a pillow he doesn't remember falling asleep on, tucked under a blanket he doesn't remember putting over himself. under the same big blanket, on the same floor, lays zhengting beside him. still fast asleep with his mouth slightly open.

yanchen is feeling around for his phone to take a picture when--

"oh oop--" he yanks his hand back as quick as his elbow goes, and zhengting is wide awake in half a second. coughing loudly when he almost chokes on his spit. yanchen's face, what just happened, it's so much information to take in at once that his body malfunctions. face all red, with no idea where to put his eyes so they stay on yanchen's neck.

he sits up, which makes things more awkward--for yanchen, anyway, who, in addition to having touched it, now has to see his friend's morning wood pressed against the blanket.

the apology on his tongue changes state and turns into laughter. yanchen closes his eyes so he won't laugh too loud, and nods towards the general direction of the awkwardness to signal zhengting--who's knee-jerk reaction to panic is covering himself with a pillow and turning a deeper shade of red.

zhengting turns so red that yanchen thinks his head will burst. it almost makes him feel sorry, so he laughs to lighten the mood.

"it's okay," he says. "i get it."

"it's..." between breathing and talking and trying to figure out where to place his eyes, zhengting feels overwhelmed and has no space for thinking of his words. "it'sjustbeenawhile," he says, voice barely above a whisper, barely hearing himself.

"did you dream of him?"

"YANCHEN."

yanchen bursts out into laughter and pats the pillow over zhengting's crotch consolingly.

then, there is a pause. yanchen with nothing to say, zhengting with a boner that won't go away and nothing to say either.

"do you, uh..." yanchen looks up at his friend, "need help or--"

"oh my GOD," zhengting exclaims, hiding his face behind his hands--which makes yanchen laugh again, which makes zhengting want to melt into the floor and disappear just _that_ much more.

(if anyone asks if he considered saying yes, zhengting will lie and say he never did.) (yanchen knows this by how the pause in the air sounds.)

"i'm... going to take a shower," zhengting says amid violent coughing.

yanchen lays back down and faces the other way, grabs the blanket back over himself and closes his eyes to sleep again. "alright.

the heater's broken, by the way."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once AGAIN its 4 am i take no responsibility over my mistakes good night and good bye


	12. your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hoody, jay park

it's a quarter-to-seven with the sky too dark and the parking lot too empty. with zhengting zipped up in the school's signature varsity hoodie, dark blue sleeves pulled over his hands because it's the smallest size but it's still too big for him. with arms wrapped around a big glass jar full of somethings. with hair just slightly messy from dance practice.

ever the overachiever—if waiting for xukun beside his car for almost forty minutes is any indication of it.

xukun arrives a few moments too soon, strolling from the building with a bag slung over one shoulder and his jacket over the other. white lollipop stick between his lips. small face and bare arms so pale that zhengting can see him clearly even under dim lamp post lights. there's a slight stutter in his step when he sees zhengting, but xukun pretends he doesn't notice it. so, zhengting does too.

"you're ambushing me now?" are the first words out of xukun's lips,

and zhengting doesn't respond as quickly as he thought he would. all frozen in place for a moment. he hasn't had xukun this close in months, after all. he hasn't heard his voice from so near. he snaps back to himself at the sound of xukun's car door unlocking.

"wait," zhengting croaks out almost ungracefully, clearing his throat quietly, "can— ... can we talk?"

xukun opens the door to chuck his things inside, and he looks at zhengting the entire time. gaze flickering to the big thing he's holding in his arms, then back up to him. to his eyes that look too brown and glittery in the dark, to the bad lighting that makes the tiny pout on his lips look bigger.

"i was wondering if i could comeover and we couldtalk. i c—"

"my mom's home tonight," xukun cuts him off plainly, a dash of regret for dramatic effect.

"oh."

zhengting stands awkwardly for a moment as xukun fusses with the inside of his car, putting his things here and there. all unnecessary actions and aimless. eventually, he stops. and when xukun stands back up straight, zhengting is standing in the exact same spot. giving him the exact same look. holding the exact same thing. xukun nods towards it.

"that for me?" 

zhengting, as if he had forgotten that he was holding anything at all. he nods numbly, and stares stupidly.

"listen, xukun, about what i said. i didn't—"

"good speech," xukun interrupts again, and zhengting stops clueless, "the debate earlier, or whatever. it was a good speech."

"you came?"

"don't i always?" xukun winks, and zhengting is so close to laughing that he feels like crying. 

"... thank you," is all he can say, looking down at the ground, feeling inadequate and sad.

"wouldn't miss it for the world," xukun says as he used to. all simple and easy as if any of this is.

zhengting blinks at him, and thinks that he seems unbothered. and he tells himself that he knows xukun well enough to know that he's not. that this is taking a toll on him, too. that he feels everything zhengting feels, too.

"xukun, i didn't mean what i said," zhengting says, words all rushing past each other to get out, breaking the pause too quick, "i don't blame you. ... for anything."

crickets fill in the blanks that follow. someone waiting for something, and nothing coming for no one. and zhengting's eyes fixed on the darkness, and xukun exhaling a soft sigh. 

"you hurt me, 'ting," is what he says, all simple, voice as quiet as the burning of a star.

"i know... i just—"

and there are words choked and air pressure and breaths held, and when zhengting doesn't say anything, xukun does.

" _i..._ need time."

"how much?" zhengting can't bite his tongue—usually xukun does it for him, usually he can never control much of anything when xukun is this close. he almost regrets saying it as soon as he says it, but xukun doesn't look angry. so, zhengting blinks in anticipation of an answer instead.

and though incredulous, xukun comes to realize that he's not all too surprised. that he knows zhengting well enough to know him.

zhengting stares at him, and xukun cups his cheek with one hand. "i miss you too, ' ting," he says, brushing his thumb across zhengting's skin once and twice. taking his hand back before he can miss it. instead of missing it, xukun takes out the lollipop in his mouth with one last suck and a _pop!_. he holds it in front of zhengting's lips for biting. and he doesn't have to wait long for zhengting to give up all of his principles and resolves for hygiene, to take the lollipop in his mouth like xukun wants.

xukun grins, and zhengting is overwhelmed by senses both real and fake, by how much his mouth tastes like how he remembers xukun tastes. xukun presses a sticky, sweet little kiss to zhengting's temple, before getting into his car with the windows open.

all too soon, once again too fast for zhengting to follow, the engine starts. and it's whirring in the background before he can know.

"oh—" he almost forgets, holding the big glass jar in his arms out for xukun to take. filled to the brim, inside are blue and yellow and purple and white origami stars. "please take this," zhengting says softly, just almost pleading. (if there's anything xukun misses a lot, it's the pleading.)

and xukun takes it. he stares at it for a moment, before setting it aside in the passenger seat. xukun looks back at anything, and more than anything, he wants to kiss him. and for all of a moment, with xukun's elbow on the window and leaning just slightly forward, zhengting thinks that he will.

but he revs the engine and says goodbye, then he's speeding down the highway. far, far away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its ignore all mistakes bec i should be asleep o'clock


	13. higher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deepshower, jb

zhengting eases them into it. but still, justin screams. and chengcheng yells. and xinchun laughs and flails his arms across the table. and quanzhe stares hard while wenjun acts unsurprised, barely looking up from the forms he's filling out.

"X--"

"SHH."

" _xukun_ ," justin whispers so low that it looks like he's about to pop a vein. chengcheng squirms like he has an ant up his shirt, and xinchun still won't stop laughing.

zhengting grabs xinchun's notebook and smacks the side of his head with it. 

"you're a freak," xinchun says anyway, rubbing his head. "i called it. emo drama boy. that's _wild_ , zhengting, even for you."

"' _even_ ' for me--?"

"don't act like yanjun's party didn't happ--"

"eat your salad, zhengting," wenjun interrupts before zhengting can smack xinchun with a heavier book. "debate starts in forty minutes."

so, zhengting sits down and shoves greens into his mouth.

' _ya'll i just found out something WIIIILD :x_ ' justin tweets with hurried thumbs as chengcheng tries to look at his phone screen over his shoulder.

"good for you, 'ting," wenjun breaks the short silence, finishing the last form and closing his folder. "make sure you have his vote, alright?"

and zhengting smiles because it sounds like a joke, but also because he doesn't know how to tell wenjun that he probably doesn't.

 

\---

 

xukun calls after school. zhengting all ecstatic and excited about it, rushing to a quiet place to answer.

"zhengzheng," xukun chuckles into the phone, over the noise in the background and the static, "are you-- busy?"

zhengting presses a finger to his ear. "xukun?"

"yeah, yeah. it's me."

"where are you?"

"at home. hey, listen. ... listen--are you busy?"

"not really. school just ended. ... did you cut last period?"

xukun laughs. "i took the afternoon off. 

 _anyway_ , are you busy? come over here. come over if you're not busy.

you know what-- ... come over even if you're busy. i 'wanna see you 'ting. come over and see me.

let's talk, like you want."

 

small voice in his head that sounds eerily like better judgment says no. zhengting says, "yes. i mean, okay! yes, i'll come over. what time do you want me?"

"right now rightnowrightnow. right this second. take your fastest shoes and go. come here."

"okay, xukun."

"okay, zhengting?"

"okay!"

xukun laughs loudly again, and static and noise aside, zhengting doesn't think he has ever heard a better sound. so, he laughs too.

"okayokay. see you!" xukun bids goodbye, then the line drops.

and zhengting leaves his car in the school parking lot to take the bus.

 

\---

 

the situation at xukun's house when he arrives is nothing like he had expected. xukun's neighborhood is relatively nice and quiet, all houses a few feet from each other. some nice gardens here and there. joggers in the morning, old people always walking. but zhengting walks in to loud alternative music, thick smoke and lowlights.

"xukun?" he calls, looking around to see a few people he doesn't know. older-looking people, two sitting on the staircase, one staring up at the ceiling from the sofa. all of them smoking fat blunts. red eyes and cracked lips.

zhengting trips over a toy car and a half before reaching xukun: standing in the kitchen behind ziyi, standing too close, watching the stove from over his friend's shoulder. he's about to grab the pepper shaker on the kitchen island when he sees zhengting.

"hey! he came!" xukun rejoices, and it makes zhengting feels weird and warm.

"he did," zhengting chuckles unsurely, looking around, barely registering how dark it is before xukun is scooping him up into a bone-crushing bear hug.

"smoke?"

"uh, no thanks."

xukun pouts. "look at this, though. it's glass tip," he shows zhengting his fancy cigar, "look, it's _glass_. _tip_. _backwood_ ," he says, as if zhengting is supposed to know what any of those words mean. he stares at zhengting with wide, amazed eyes. and zhengting imitates the look as best as he can, figuring out almost immediately that xukun is too high to speak.

xukun stares at him a moment longer--whether it's because his motor controls are stuck or because he's still waiting for a reaction, zhengting doesn't know. but xukun stops staring when the lack of response becomes clear.

"it's really good," he dismisses himself, putting an arm around zhengting's shoulder and herding him towards the stove.

"hey, zhengting," ziyi greets him, words slowed too. zhengting freezes for a second, because he has never stood so close to ziyi or heard him speak so quietly before. slightly intimidated, slightly panicked. he does his best to smile.

"hi," he answers.

ziyi glances at him with half-lidded eyes then chuckles.

"he's cute," ziyi says of him, and zhengting feels the overwhelming urge to fight him.

but, when has zhu zhengting ever fought anyone? he stays quiet, instead, and turns his eyes to what ziyi is stirring in the little steel pot.

noodles. zhengting squints. whatever it is vaguely looks like noodles.

"he--" xukun chuckles between his words, "he wants to do the spicy noodle challenge."

he rolls his eyes and hits ziyi too hard. "come on, zhengzheng. let's pop this popsicle stand," he says.

ziyi snorts. " _zhengzheng_. like _yiyi_?"

"shut the fuck up, fish tales," xukun retorts, before walking zhengting out of the kitchen and up, up, up the stairs. arm still around him, although zhengting is the one who ends up guiding him. 

"oof--" xukun grunts when he plops down on his mattress too hard. because it feels like a good idea, he lays on his back to stare up at the ceiling. he stares long and hard. and if time passes or zhengting speaks, he doesn't notice.

"you haven't been here a while, huh?" he says after moments too numerous that he no longer feels qualified to count them.

"yeah," zhengting answers, quietly sitting down beside him.

"last time you were here--" xukun takes a hit in between sentences, "last time you were here, you had carpet burns on your knees and you were crying." he chuckles, and zhengting blushes a light red.

"i don't remember crying--"

"you don't remember a lot of things."

zhengting pauses. xukun inhales another lungful of his candy air.

"but yes," he continues, "you were crying because i wouldn't let you come." xukun stares into nothing for a moment, chuckling softly as if he's recalling a fond memory. gingerly, he searches for zhengting's hand to hold.

zhengting notices too late, fingers already loosely intertwined when he figures out what xukun's hand is up to.

"you're spoiled," xukun says, tugging at his fingers, not looking at him. "look. i'm even begging you to come back again, like you want. you always get everything you want."

"i don't want you to b--"

"you don't want me back?" 

xukun tilts his head to stare, face all red and glowy. eyes all glassy and half-lidded. and it becomes too clear too quickly that he won't move a muscle until zhengting says something. so, zhengting says something.

"i do," he says, wondering if xukun can see, through all the smoke in the air, just how much.

"you do."

"i do."

"you do what?"

zhengting stares at him, xukun stares back. he laughs, chewing on his lip as he grins and waits again. zhengting lays close beside him, putting xukun's arm around himself and pressing too close. legs just loosely tangled, relief flooding his body when he gets the privilege of clutching onto xukun's shirt again.

"i miss you, xukun," he speaks into the space between them.

xukun looks up at him, all sparkling eyes and eyebrows pushed together. all wanting to kiss him but wanting not to.

"say you want me back."

"... i... i want you back."

"say it like i'm yours."

"you're mine?"

"yeah," xukun moves closer into his space, leaning in as if to kiss him, leaning away so he won't--like fighting gravity's pull, like breathing lead, "say it."

"you're mine."

"i'm yours. and?"

"and. ... and i-- ... ... and i want you back."

xukun chuckles, so close that their lips brush. and zhengting leans in to kiss him, but xukun leans away.

"you want me?" xukun asks.

"all of you," zhengting answers on an impulse.

and it always takes xukun aback--zhengting acting on impulse, speaking and moving without plans or destinations. zhengting in the moment. zhengting right then. he laughs, and when their lips touch, xukun kisses him. gingerly, sloppily, sweetly. xukun presses one kiss onto zhengting's lips and laughs again.

"you miss me," he says as if it's new information from his favorite book.

"i miss you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof ty !!! again for everyone reading this (and leaving comments??wtf ily all) i hope u liked it u w u have a great day


	14. 我怀念的

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what i miss is not saying a word, what i miss is dreaming together  
> what i miss is even after quarreling i still want the impulsiveness of loving you

xukun waits with the sun, flicking his lighter on-and-off-and-on until the fluid runs out. then he chucks it to the side and unwraps his twelfth lollipop of the day. wrapper paper so loud that he doesn't hear the footsteps on the metal staircase.

arms wrap around him from behind, a body pressing against his back.

"hey," zhengting speaks softly, "don't litter."

xukun turns around, already smiling before he can even see zhengting. before he can even kiss him. and he kisses him, face between his hands and lips pressing none too softly. (not even noticing that his lollipop has fallen to the floor.) zhengting smiles into the kiss, once and twice and thrice. so giddy and excited that he has to grab fistfuls of xukun's black shirt to steady himself.

"no, but really, pick it up—" he tries to speak between kisses, completely ignored for minutes on end because all xukun wants to do is kiss him. again, _again_ , _again_. because this is not enough but this is the closest they can ever get to being close. in swift motions, xukun picks up his trash and shoves them into his pocket. so impatient that he pushes zhengting back against the fire exit's brick walls too hard.

but all zhengting does is laugh, all bright eyes and pearly whites. and xukun can't help smiling at the sight of his happiness.

"you have the prettiest smile," xukun tells him, a mess of smooches and smiles and laughter and words. and xukun's arms around zhengting's hips again, and zhengting's arms around xukun's neck again.

"you mean _handsome_."

"i mean _perfect_."

and their lips are pressed together again before another word can be said, before another thought can be thunk. before zhengting can breathe and before xukun can remember that he's still not entirely fine. questions and words try to reach his tongue, so he shoves them all down zhengting's throat. feeling breathless so he steals the air from zhengting's lungs, feeling suffocated so he holds zhengting close to himself. impossibly, impossibly closer. 

it's always this: always trying to become one body, trying to mold into one body. always knowing it can never be enough, but trying, still.

xukun doesn't notice how the friction might have gotten too much until zhengting moans into his mouth. he pulls away for a second—and only a second—if only to tease him.

"oh?" 

zhengting looks away, blushing. scratching on the nape of xukun's neck.

"bet you're already hard, huh, zhengzheng," xukun grins, trying to make zhengting wince. all the air knocked out of zhengting's lungs because he can never take it when xukun _talks_ dirty. "we've never done it here," xukun continues, nipping on the lobe of zhengting's ear between whispers, "i mean, i've never fucked you on this brick wall. you want that, don't you?"

zhengting winces.

"i bet you've dreamt of it."

zhengting whines, toes curling, profoundly confused when he realizes that xukun hasn't even touched him once.

xukun's hands are still only holding his body. arms unwrapping from around him when xukun decides he wants to see the ink on his waist. pushing the hem of his jeans lower until he can see half of the illustration.

a picture of flowers. an artful little bundle of carnations.

xukun traces the lines with his thumb, and zhengting is so desperate that it has the same effect on him that fingers around his dick would.

xukun looks up at him to see his eyes shut tight, grinning so hard he almost laughs. he looks at zhengting's inked bones one last time before taking his hand away to cup zhengting's face instead. kissing the curve of his jaw, his lips. 

zhengting feels so confused that he wants to cry.

"xukun..." he speaks weakly, just on the edge of begging.

and xukun, knowing him well. "don't beg," he instructs. "i won't be able to stop myself if you beg."

"i—"

xukun places a kiss on zhengting's lips to shut him up.

"i want our first time again to be good," xukun says. "better this time," he corrects himself—" _sober_."

zhengting smiles half a smile, scraping up enough courage to look at him. 

all deep brown eyes and long lashes, all perfect and handsome and loved.

"okay," he replies, and xukun kisses him so softly that he feels his heart melt off of his bones.

the bell rings, but zhengting doesn't pull away. ignoring the world so he can stay in xukun's arms a second longer.

xukun is the one to put distance between them.

"text me when your meeting's done," he reminds zhengting, "i'll be waiting at the parking lot."

zhengting nods, and chuckles when xukun kisses the tip of his nose.

then there is the sound of rubber soles running up metal stairs, and a day passing by too slowly.

and patience and waiting and a message sent. a boy standing under a lamppost next to a car, almost tackled to the asphalt when the boy he loves jumps into his arms. and hands clasped tightly between highways and nightlights, excitement and anticipation and the door barely closed before they're falling into bed. all tangled limbs and so in love, all fingers intertwined and i love you's. all scratch and pull and holding on, all cuddled too closely in the aftermath.

all trembling thighs and sore hips, but so in love that nothing matters.

at least, zhengting thinks it's love. at least, xukun will believe it's something he deserves.

"i missed you," xukun says when he means to ask why zhengting hasn't apologized.

"i missed you too," zhengting returns when what he means to say is i think i love you, and i was miserable when you left, and i don't want you to ever, ever, ever leave again. he squeezes xukun's hand tighter.

"does it hurt?" xukun asks when he means to wonder whether zhengting knows what he did.

"when i fell from heaven?" zhengting rolls his eyes.

"no, when i fucked you so hard you cried," xukun replies playfully.

zhengting lets his hand go to hit his arm.

"i did not cry!"

"i'm pretty sure these are tear streaks."

zhengting swats xukun's hand away when he tries to trace the tear streaks on his cheek. all of the moments collapsing into laughter, a pause.

"did you cry, 'ting?"

"hm?"

"over me.

when we weren't talking."

"..."

"did you?"

"yeah." zhengting scoots closer, every breath filling with xukun. "i missed you," he reasons.

xukun grins. pausing to think, gathering just enough courage to ask,

"are you sorry?"

zhengting bites his lip, pausing so long. as if he has realized something.

"i hurt you," he says in soft realization of something he already knew. zhengting stares at him for a long time, all absorbed by the silence and engulfed by the night. it feels, to him, as if time has stopped. and there is nothing else in the world but the both of them and the bed they're in.

"i won't do it again, kunkun," zhengting says, "i promise.

... 

..."

zhengting sits up, looking down at xukun through fluttering eyelashes. looking at him intently. 

"i'm sorry, xukun," he says earnestly.

xukun reaches for the nape of his neck to pull him down into a kiss.

"my zhengting," xukun speaks it softly to the world, louder than any scream from any mountaintop. rubbing zhengting's back, tracing tiny bumps and bruises.

zhengting rests his body on xukun's bones completely, head on his shoulder and lips on his skin. eyes closed and smile on his lips, "always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh i think this sounds like an ~*~ending~*~ of some sort but....i never had a plot for this fic n i still don't so its NOT an ending n i will keep posting chapters tho literally no one asked lmao ! :') coughchengstincough coughyanrencough coughninepercentcoughyuehuaot7coughalltheotheridolpdboysiwanttoputinthisficcough
> 
> ++hope u liked !!! it !!! ik its g*arbage but anyway also tysm4 READING n COMMENTING n leaving kudos n bookmarking i love my fellow zhengkunists stay smart


	15. 小半

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trying to say good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [click this before reading](https://twitter.com/zhengtingslut/status/996403054294396928)

it's all unsaid words and open endings. all loose threads and unpulled seams.

the auditorium is empty except for the two of them: zhengting up on stage behind the podium, wenjun sitting in the front row with flashcards in his hands. (plus quanzhe standing beside zhengting, holding a water bottle and a towel, but justin always says he doesn't count.)

"this is the final question," wenjun announces.

zhengting exhales softly. wenjun looks up.

"don't do that."

"what?"

"the exhale."

"i won't do it on the actual day."

"pretend like this is the actual day. this is the only time you can prepare."

"okay, okay."

"zhengting."

" _okay_!"

wenjun crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his chair, reading the card aloud. a question about the school's raccoon problem, whether zhengting has a solution for it or not. people always want solutions. so, zhengting answers with a well-laid out plan. ever the great planner.

satisfied with most of zhengting's answers—wrist watch reading 9:03 PM, grumpy janitor on their tail about closing up soon—wenjun concludes the meeting. 

"good job," wenjun tells zhengting as they collect their things and fix their bags.

"i'll do great," zhengting says with a smile.

wenjun grins, thinking back to when they first started and all the hours it took for him to turn zhengting's 'will i do good?''s to 'i'll do great's. "don't you always."

he takes the heavy armful of books and binders stacked up on the table before zhengting can get to it.

"wenjun—" zhengting tries to protest, but wenjun instructs him towards the exit with a nod. and all zhengting can do is walk, quanzhe following suite.

the exit behind the stage leads out to the parking lot, where xukun waits. all black from head to toe, sitting on the hood of his newly fixed up camaro. beaming when he sees zhengting walking out, running to him, jumping right into his arms.

wenjun glances at his watch. 9:22.

"hey, thanks, man," xukun takes zhengting's books from wenjun and places them in the backseat.

"sure," wenjun nods, listening to zhengting rave about xukun's newly-fixed up old car. 

"hey," wenjun brushes zhengting's wrist, interrupting the conversation as least as he can. "i 'gotta go."

"oh, okay," zhengting gives him the standard goodbye hug. "thanks again. let's run the cards tomorrow?"

"i'll make new cards," wenjun replies with a grin. zhengting gasps. goodbyes said again over laughter.

and wenjun, his quiet benz beeps unlocked. speeding out of the parking lot in silence.

and zhengting, awash in the low glow of the parking lot lampposts and xukun's attention. he talks in between kisses and too little proximity and intertwined fingers. "sorry we took a while," he says, though he knows xukun doesn't mind.

and xukun, he smooches zhengting's cheek in a bid to make him laugh.

"you didn't have to wait," zhengting tells him, chuckling softly.

"i wanted to," xukun says, the sound of his voice, to zhengting, like the feeling of a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

and they smile and kiss and talk about nothing until they're tired, zhengting falling asleep in the passenger seat of xukun's car on the way home. xukun shaking him gently awake and helping him rub his eyes. kissing him good night, saying i'll see you in the morning.

 

\---

 

zhengting was in his second year of high school when he first kissed a boy. when he first kissed  _anyone_.

(late bloomer, teased some of his friends. but he didn't have much time to mind when he was involved in about a hundred school clubs.)

and it was nothing like he expected.

it was nighttime and they were sitting in front of the school bus, waiting for the older members of the student governance committee to return from their booze and chips run to the gas station's 7-11 (as the youngest staff, they had been told to watch the bus.) fifteen miles left on the roadtrip with nothing to do, they began talking about the world. about nothing and everything. tv shows and music and all the hundreds and hundreds of things they had in common.

the conversation tumbled to the subject of love, this and that. it was the first time in his life that zhengting could talk about it and feel fine and uncomplicated.

wenjun, he thought, was uncomplicated. wenjun talked about love like he knew exactly what he wanted, and zhengting had never before related with someone so much.

wenjun said he had never kissed anyone. zhengting said neither had he.

it was a safe, lonely moment of being around nobody.

wenjun asked, zhengting nodded.

wenjun kissed him, zhengting smiled.

it lasted for all of a second, and it was much dryer than zhengting ever thought it would be. he has no other word for it. just that it was dry, and quick, and made his stomach twist and turn. _chaste_ , he learns later, is the word for it.

and it was pleasant. not enough, but pleasant. not enough, but it was the first time zhengting felt completely contented about anything.

tangled fingers, quick pecks to the cheek, the occasional quick kiss again. all glimpses of happiness and zhengting thought it could be something until he saw wenjun's tongue shoved down someone's throat behind the lockers in junior year.

the moment was crass, quick. never spoken about again. 

he learned that ding zeren was the boy's name. and much later, ding zeren became one of his closest friends.

but it's all unsaid words and open endings. all loose threads and unpulled seams.

"hey, mind if i sit?" zeren takes the empty chair beside zhengting, placing his tray on the table. zhengting scoots to the side to give his friend some space.

wenjun doesn't look up from his endless filling out of forms. quanzhe watches him intently.

"where's yanchen?" zhengting asks over cherry tomatoes and vinaigrette. 

zeren stares at his phone. "i don't know, he said he'd be here," he furrows his eyebrows. "it's our monthsary, too."

zhengting chuckles. "you guys do that?"

"yeah," zeren answers, "it's great. free flowers and chocolate every month, are you kidding?"

"oh..." zhengting pouts pensively, "maybe we should do that..."

"oh, yeah, you'll love it," zeren babbles off into monthsary talk.

all flowers and yanchen and chocolates and yanchen, and his phone ringing and yanchen's name on the screen.

zhengting chews on his vegetables, watching wenjun operate like a machine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw dont ask me about timeline n setting bec idk ?? is it a hs fic or a university fic i have no idea its up 2 u to decide thank god for fiction !!


	16. artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life is short, art is long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> click these ([1](https://twitter.com/fyidolproducer/status/997840984598827010), [2](https://twitter.com/yuehuas/status/997768047225028609)) before reading for an ELEVATED reading experience

"are you sure this is a good idea?"

"yeah, it'll be great, 'ting."

zhengting squeezes xukun's hand tighter, then he takes a deep breath. one after another, then another. eyebrows furrowing, breathing just barely steady.

"kunkun, i'm scared."

"don't be."

zhengting watches as the big man in the chair beside him starts sterilizing needles. he chews on his lip, barely noticing how tightly he's squeezing xukun's hand until—

" _ow_ , ow—zhengting—" xukun tries to pull his hand loose.

"... sorry..."

"it's okay," xukun chuckles, watching the blood drain from zhengting's face. kissing his cheek to return some of it.

"you don't have to do this if you don't w—"

"nonono, i want to," zhengting cuts him off, having heard the words too many times. 

"i mean, i don't even have any," xukun gestures vaguely to his ears. "they all closed up a year ago."

"i've... always wanted one."

"you're getting four."

"alright, hip tattoo," the big man speaks, taking the nickname from the hip tattoo he had given zhengting months ago. "ready?"

the only thing that keeps zhengting from physically wincing is xukun's hand in his, and xukun smiling at him, and xukun taking a seat beside the reclining chair, rubbing his thigh when the man says to let go of his hand.

"just relax," the man tells him, "you won't feel a thing."

"he totally lied!" three weeks later, zhengting is still complaining about his ear piercing experience. "he said i wouldn't feel a thing, but i totally felt many things!"

it's mid-wednesday afternoon, walking to the parking lot together, hand-in-hand in broad daylight and feeling absolutely swell. xukun knows the only reason zhengting lets this happen is because half the school population has gone home, and there is no one for miles and miles to see them. still, he takes it. baby steps, he thinks, baby steps and compromise will move them along.

"they look good," xukun tells zhengting to pacify him, stopping by his car, kissing the pout he sees on zhengting's lips.

compliments and kisses. they always do such a good job of shutting zhengting up.

and the end of good days is always this: kisses in the parking lot, zhengting's arms around xukun's neck, xukun's arms around zhengting's waist. a pause to breathe turns into a stare. xukun feels like it's looking at the sun for too long, zhengting thinks it's like having everything he has ever wanted so close. 

xukun sticks his tongue out, all metal and flesh. all zhengting laughing before daringly sucking on it. all sloppy and wet and hot, but zhengting never cares when they're alone. he laughs loudly when xukun licks up the curve of his jaw, skin all tingly and stomach aflutter. and xukun, he can never get enough or do enough. the metal in his tongue scratches against the metals in zhengting's ear.

zhengting flinches, xukun laughs and holds him in place. zhengting vibrates with laughter as xukun's teeth graze his earrings. one-two-three. all playful and messy and bodies so close together all the time that zhengting never notices the distance or the lack of it.

"you look so good, 'ting," xukun whispers low, voice dropping a whole octave. zhengting clings onto his jacket for support, swallowing hard to drain his courage.

"good enough for you bend me over my bathroom sink?"

air knocked right out of his lungs, xukun stops abruptly. pulling back to blink at zhengting, just to see if the words really did come out of his mouth. but zhengting is already looking at anything else.

"the new marble is really nice..." he reasons lamely, face all red.

xukun grins, leaning back into the embrace so his lips can be closer to zhengting's ear when he whispers,

"good enough for me to bend you over your new bathroom sink and fuck you until you cry."

 

\---

 

"are you sure this is a good idea?"

"zhengting, this is _your_ idea."

zhengting squeezes xukun's thigh tighter. xukun laughs and kisses his clothed back.

"baby, it's hair color not a brain operation."

"... still ..."

xukun makes him turn around, then kisses him quick in between rubbing temporary blue onto his hair and watching the nervousness on his face.

"it'll be off before break is over," xukun tells him again, "it'll look good."

"... okay ..."

a bit of stinging, a lot of washing, and too much blue dye getting onto his shirt and his hands later, zhengting is staring into the bathroom mirror and squinting.

"it looks black," he comments. 

"you'll see it better in the sun," xukun replies, leading zhengting to the mirror behind his closet door. opening a window to let the sunlight in.

in the sunlight, it looks  _much_ more blue. deep and rich and brand new. and zhengting can't help staring, in slight disbelief of what he has done. he stares, runs his fingers through his hair, then stares and stares again. all just as surprised and extremely pleased, xukun looks at zhengting through the mirror and grins.

"oh, wow," xukun speaks softly, words unashamedly dripping affection and admiration. he walks closer to zhengting, tucks his hair behind his ear to reveal his three-piercing ear,

"handsome," he says.

zhengting smiles, feeling entirely odd when he watches the person in the mirror smile at the exact same time. only seconds later does he remember that _that_ 's him. that blue-haired, ear-pierced, hip-tattooed boy in the mirror is him, and zhengting can't remember a time when he looked or _felt_ better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldve been better n longer if i hadnt caught a massive headache but whatever blue hair zhengting is superior ! 
> 
> also: hey ! this fic has a playlist now: [long ver](https://open.spotify.com/user/kuryoumi/playlist/7sDAXI7SVF5zNs05fWModX?si=pDwILT9SSj-gsGW20_lREQ) (50 songs), short ver (24 songs). contains songs in this fic, and other songs that remind me of the story/zhengkun/zhengting/xukun/etc. enjoy !!


	17. shape of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little bit sweet, a little bit tipsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SIGHHHH (not clickbait)](https://twitter.com/dearzhengting/status/1001436348631404544) ((ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ)

zhengting has never been hammered before. and if xukun knew this before taking him home with a dozen six packs in the trunk, maybe he would have thought twice about their plans for the night.

but it's one in the morning and xukun's couch is dirty with the both of them. stained with the affection that won't stop dripping out of zhengting's mouth, soiled with sweat and xukun's amusement at how _different_ a few (read: too many) bottles of alcohol make him.

not that zhengting isn't normally too-affectionate and touchy and in love, but a handful of bitter shots and fruity sodas turn him into a love _monster_. xukun laughs as zhengting, sprawled all over his body and completely out of touch with the concept of space, leans in too close again. smelling too strongly of alcohol and spilled sugar when he breathes against xukun's lips.

"you smell like a distillery," xukun chuckles.

zhengting's eyes light up. "have you been to a distsitler...?" he asks, all spaced out and tongue tied. "take me to one," he adds brightly, lips accidentally brushing against xukun's—finding that he likes it and pressing their lips together again.

"ok—" xukun tries to talk, swallowed up too soon by a messy kiss and zhengting's laughter and hazy happiness. he rubs zhengting's back, blinking slow enough that he doesn't entirely catch zhengting leaving his arms to reach for something on the table.

"let's have another drink!" zhengting says, all pep, pouring bronze into a glass blindly before laying back on top of xukun. he sits on his hips for a while, staring at the glass. "oh... it's only one..." he pouts, looking down at xukun and grinning. "well, we can share it," he says, "you like sharing, huh?" undecided whether he wants to drink or kiss xukun, thinking that he wants to pull xukun up towards him and finding no shirt to grasp. zhengting pouts, all awkward position and alcohol spilling onto xukun's skin.

"okay," xukun groans, "i think that's enough for tonight." slowly, he pushes himself up to sit, pausing for a moment to blink before taking the glass from zhengting's hand and drinking it. 

"wh—"

xukun presses their lips together sloppily, rubbing the nape of zhengting's neck. zhengting giggles into the air, leaning in impossibly closer.

"enough drinks for now, baby," xukun says as if it's an instruction.

and all zhengting can think to do is pout, and nod, and say, "okay, daddy."

awkward pause—no, _full_ _stop_. zhengting is blackout drunk but sober enough to run out of air. and xukun isn't nearly drunk enough to be deaf.

zhengting starts coughing loudly, as if his airways are blocked and he can't remember how to breathe. and xukun would laugh if he wasn't so turned on. as if weighed down by the heavy duty of responsibility and respect, he sighs.

arms as heavy as iron, he rubs zhengting's back and kisses his cheek. "let's get you to bed," he says, unable to help the grin that pulls at his lips.

through tangled limbs and tremendous effort, after a quick trip to the bathroom and a glass of water, xukun manages to tuck zhengting into a proper bed. red face and half-lidded eyes too adorable, sleepy drunk half-smile on his face irresistible, xukun can't help caressing his cheek. thinking he's a treasure, thinking he's a gem. and if more of his braincells had been awake, xukun would have marveled at how impossibly lucky he is. but he's drunk and zhengting is pretty and zhengting is his, and he doesn't know much besides these few facts.

"daddy..." zhengting says, eyes half closed, blindly reaching for xukun's hand—if only because he remembered the word out of the blue and thought it was a funny word. he smirks, chuckles. feeling so incredibly accomplished when he finds xukun's hand and fits his fingers in the spaces. zhengting lifts his eyelids to admire his handiwork, greeted instead with what he will say is the most angelic face he has ever laid eyes on.

through the dark, he sees a finger. a finger tapping on something. it's a cheek. a finger tapping on a cheek. zhengting blinks his eyes wider open, muscle memory snapping into action. fast as he can, he hurries to sit up and plant a kiss on xukun's cheek.

xukun chuckles. "good boy," he says in spirit of the joke, because he has always been so, _so_ humorous, gingerly smoothing zhengting's hair and laying him back down. "go to sleep now."

"come back here, okay?" zhengting squeezes in in between drowsiness and vomit in his mouth and trying to curl his fingers so xukun won't slip through them. "go brush your teeth and come back here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes its true tipsy zhengting isa blessing:'') ANYWAY hey hows everyone everyone havina good time?thanks for coming out tonight n reading this fic i hope u liked remember to tip ur waitress thank u ill be here all night .
> 
> now heres the promised surprise if its disappointing its not my fault psa me n friends are working on an interactive horrory/suspense/idk twt au which is why i wont be updating so much until that au is finished !!! but if ur into that u freak follow @zhengtingslut for updates;pp lets cry about nine percent and count the days until their album together! misery loves company


	18. 爱你

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "yanjun?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres zhengkun being obnoxious uwu

xukun doesn't know how a hangover can last three days, but somehow, zhengting makes it to school on monday with half a massive migraine and the need to vomit still looming over him. he doesn't leave xukun's side, doesn't take off his large sunglasses, doesn't remove xukun's too-big leather jacket even if wenjun tells him it's sweltering.

"yeah, zhengting. take off your jacket," xinchun had rallied behind wenjun. "if wenjun says it's hot, it's hot. takes a lot for cold blooded mammals to feel heat, you know."

and they had all stared at him with one eyebrow raised.

"yeah, i took biology last year," xinchun had bragged, reading the room entirely wrong.

"well, retake it because no mammals are cold blooded, xinchun," justin had retorted.

and it had ended in bickering too loud for zhengting to bear. xukun herded him far away, and they sat in his car until four in the afternoon, when zhengting had to leave to attend a meeting.

he returns half an hour later than he promised. not that xukun was counting. not that xukun was obsessively staring at the long hand on his watch go _tick-tick-tick_.

he sits on the hood of his car with zhengting's favorite canned coffee in hand, ready to surprise his boyfriend with a grand gesture of love. zhengting walks up to him holding the exact same beverage, halfway finished.

xukun jumps onto his feet, kisses zhengting hello.

"oh... i didn't know you were going to the store. i got you the same thing..." 

zhengting chuckles airily, kisses the pout off of xukun's face.

"i didn't buy it. yanjun got it for me. but my favorite," he takes the beverage from xukun's hand, "you remembered." zhengting is floored when he leans in for a kiss and xukun leans away.

immediately, a tiny frown finds his lips. he takes his sunglasses off so xukun can see his sad, brown bambi eyes. so the blow is more deadly when he says in the sad voice he knows xukun is weak against, 

"kunkun...?" 

"yanjun?" xukun doesn't falter. and zhengting is floored yet again.

he blinks at xukun a few times, recognizing the brand new emotion on his face too quickly. "yeah... he's my vp," zhengting answers, toying warily with the theory in his head: that xukun is jealous and acting possessive and entirely unequipped to deal with the emotion.

"and i'm your b-f." 

the frustrated little crinkle between xukun's eyebrows makes zhengting laugh.

"aw, is daddy jealous?" he amps up the antics, unable to keep himself from laughing, smiling, putting the coffee cans down on the hood behind xukun so he can wrap his arms around his neck.

xukun almost chokes at the nickname that comes out of nowhere, nearly forgets what he's upset about when zhengting leans in too close.

"don't," xukun warns shakily, having to physically look away from zhengting so his resolves won't crumble _completely_.

"don't what?" zhengting plays dumb, seeking xukun's eyes.

"zhengting..." xukun falters.

zhengting exploits him.

"you like it...?" zhengting grins, leaning in closer, "when i make you jealous...?" he has to bite his lip so he won't laugh at the bothered look on xukun's face. he buries his laughter into a kiss pressed against xukun's cheek.

"no," xukun says, sounding a lot less firm than he intended.

"you know," zhengting starts, lips brushing against xukun's cheek when he speaks, finding it hilarious whenever xukun clenched and unclenched his jaw, "when you weren't around last week, 'junnie took me to dinner. we ate at—"

almost as if on cue, xukun grabs zhengting's arm and tugs to pull him back just enough that their eyes can meet. " _get in the car_ ," he says firmly, almost darkly, pushing zhengting's hands off of him and slamming the door to the driver's seat shut. zhengting holds his laughter, grabs his cans of coffee and flutters around the car to slide into the passenger's seat.

he's all wrapped up in xukun's arms in a room that smells like smoke and sex and fire only hours later, staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing. smoking little joints just because. xukun's lips buried in his hair, zhengting rolling over to press his lips against xukun's neck.

"were you really jealous?" he blinks up at xukun.

"do you think you can walk yet?" xukun retorts.

zhengting smokes away the dire need to choke, and laughs as he scoots up their shared pillow. his hips do hurt, along with everything waist down. xukun had been so pretend-angry and zhengting had done nothing to make him any calmer.

"imagine how good it'll be if we were _actually_ angry," zhengting jokes.

"... ... i don't 'wanna be angry at you ..." xukun replies, inhaling deeply and exhaling slow. kissing zhengting with the taste of charring paper still on his lips.

zhengting rolls his eyes playfully, shifting again to wrap his arms around xukun. "as if you could ever," he chuckles, pressing kisses all over xukun's chest.

"is your headache gone?" xukun asks softly, combing his fingers through zhengting's hair.

"yeah," zhengting grins, "you fucked it away, thank you."

"you're welcome."

"aw, aren't you just the best daddy ever," zhengting presses a kiss against xukun's jaw so he won't laugh.

"zhengting, don't..."

"what? it's true," zhengting kisses his chin, then rolls on top of him so that they're looking right at each other. he laughs at the look on xukun's face, laughs because he's always so happy around him, laughs because there's nowhere else he would rather be. "thank you, daddy," zhengting says cheekily, leaning down to cover xukun's cheek with smooches.

xukun rubs zhengting's back and sighs, takes another deep inhale from his joint, "you're welcome, baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i hope u liked it uwu zhengkun arent gonna stop being obnoxious, btw +we can only blame that one cc anon and zhengting for all the daddy xukun content HAVE A GREAT DAY


	19. strawberries & cigarettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long nights, daydreams  
> sugar and smoke rings, i've been a fool  
> but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we only have miss [@hearteyeszhu](https://twitter.com/hearteyeszhu) to thank for this . :)

"jump in," xukun whispers a little too loudly, and zhengting will say that the only reason he snuck out of his room and got into xukun's car that night is that he was afraid his parents would hear the engine running and the quiet shouting, that he was afraid his parents would wake up and catch them,

that he was afraid xukun might think he didn't love him.

zhengting closes the door behind him, coughing out his lungs before they can even roll back into the highway. "jesus, mary, joseph. how much have you smoked?" he asks.

"not a lot," xukun lies.

and zhengting's sweat turns colder, like he's holding ice cubes between his palms. he looks around warily, searching for a police car to avoid, seeing nothing for miles and miles. not entirely sure where they're headed, airways still a little too clogged to speak.

they slow as they approach a toll booth. peeking to see the horizon, zhengting wonders how long they've been driving. how far away they are from the city. how he can trust someone so much, and be so unafraid.

"where are we g—"

"i got you something," xukun says with a little grin, pointing vaguely to the back seat.

zhengting looks at him curiously, then blindly reaches around in the dark until he finds something rectangular and made of carton. onto his lap, he pulls a box of chocolate-covered strawberries. all he can manage is a smile, feeling so much at once and having too many questions.

"aw, thank you," he smiles, opening the box and pulling out a strawberry to eat. he sucks off the chocolate covering as he tends to, and xukun watches him with all the love in the world, hand rubbing his knee, zhengting smiling back at him as he licks the chocolate off of the strawberry and off of his lips.

and what happens is a quiet kind of magical. zhengting feeling like he wants to kiss xukun, xukun feeling the exact same thing. some tacit understanding when they lean in at the exact same time, only realizing what happened after the fact.

xukun blinks away his amazement and pays the toll, then speeds down the highway again. zhengting drowns his romantic epiphanies in bites of fruit and bits of chocolate, and a puffs of a joint that he had proudly rolled himself inside a moving car.

"do you have water?" zhengting asks, feeling as if it's rhetorical. nearly choking on his dry throat when xukun replies with a 'no,' he puts the strawberries aside and puts out the joint.

"where are we going?" he asks, licking the cracks forming across his lips.

when xukun doesn't answer, zhengting looks at him.

"xukun...?"

"oh," xukun blinks, "sorry.

... i found my dad."

" _what_?"

"i mean," xukun chews on his lip, absently peeling with his teeth.

"stop that," zhengting taps his arm, so he notices what he's doing and stops.

"sorry. i mean, i've known for a while. whatever. i just... feel like... i'm in a good place, and i can see him."

and it's not that zhengting doesn't know, because he asks enough questions to know everything. and it's not that there aren't a million things he can say: this is a bad idea, let's go back, does your mom know, does your dad know, do you know what you're doing. it's just that he has never seen xukun's heart so set on one thing. far, far back in his mind,  he's jealous. 

but he smiles softly at xukun, rubs his arm and risks a road accident to kiss his cheek. "that's good to hear, kunkun." zhengting sits back in his place and watches city lights blur by. "i hope it goes well."

he falls asleep somewhere between waiting and watching, surprised to see that not much time has passed since he remembers being awake. since he remembers being on the move. they've stopped, and it's still too dark to see. zhengting squints and sees only empty concrete as far as the headlights go. they're in a narrow road somewhere residential. it's not a lot to go by, but he can't figure out much else.

he looks over to xukun, who is sitting in the driver's seat almost completely still. everything feels like a dream, so he puts his hand on xukun's leg to see if it's real.

"hey," he whispers.

xukun snaps out of a reverie. "hey," he blinks, smiles, kisses zhengting a good morning too early to be said.

he tastes like strawberries and cigarettes. zhengting glances at the empty box of sweets sitting on the dashboard.

"oh, yeah. sorry, i ate the last one."

"it's okay."

a pause. xukun looks at something in front of them that zhengting can't see.

"he's in there?" zhengting says helpfully.

"yeah," xukun replies.

zhengting squeezes his knee. "you okay?"

xukun nods, takes a deep inhale. he thinks, and thinks, and thinks. he imagines what might happen if he steps out of his car, onto the cold asphalt of this little town in the outskirts of the city. he imagines what it might be like to finally go past the gates, and knock on the door of the tiny house. he imagines waiting for his father at the doorstep, being greeted with a snarl. or a smile. or, he imagines his father might not know him, might not remember him. he imagines his father being angry, asking what are you doing here, i'm calling your mother. he imagines his father being happy, saying i've seen you waiting inside that car of yours, i see you every time you come here, i'm so glad that you finally got out. i'm so happy that you're here.

he imagines his father saying these things, how his face might look, how his hug might feel. or a slap to the face, or a clap on the back. he imagines how his father might react, although xukun can't really remember his face.

he turns the ignition on. 

"xukun?" zhengting's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"sorry," xukun says to no one in particular, "i thought i could do this."

zhengting watches his face twist into something he never wants to see again. "maybe you don't have to," he says softly.

xukun looks at him once, nods once, before speeding out of the little town and back into the highway. 

they zip past three a.m., and zhengting breathes a sigh of relief when he sees all of the lights in his house still turned off.

he kisses xukun goodbye. once, twice, thrice. xukun pushing back the driver's seat, zhengting crossing the distance between them to get onto his lap. getting as close to xukun as possible, arms around his neck, body as far away from the car horn as possible. letting xukun grab at his night shirt until it's crumpled, letting xukun kiss the daylights out of him.

"do you 'wanna?"

"i 'gotta go."

"but tomorrow?"

"okay."

zhengting steps out of the car after a handful more minutes. he leans in through the open window to kiss xukun some more goodbyes, giggling onto his lips, falling in love with the hour.

"okay," zhengting pries himself away. "i really 'gotta go."

so, although he never wants to, xukun lets him go.

"remember when you couldn't say no to me?" he teases.

"i didn't say i love you back then, either," zhengting quips, "is that really the time you want to go back to?"

"you got me."

zhengting smiles and presses one last kiss onto his lips. "i got you," he chuckles as he runs back home.

one last look back, one last wave goodbye.

in a second, zhengting is tucked back in underneath his blankets. and when he closes his eyes, everything still feels like a dream.

 

——

 

"thanks for the ride again, zhengting," yanjun unbuckles his seatbelt and exits the car to collect their books from the backseat. 

"oh, you don't have to—"

"it's okay," he flashes zhengting a grin, picking up his things and his books, too, "i got it."

"thank you," zhengting clicks his car shut. tries to pry his things from yanjun, but only manages to bargain away his bag. 

"are you okay now?" zhengting asks on their walk to the building.

"hm?"

"i mean, the accident. you're not still... shaken up or anything? you did run into a metal pole..."

yanjun waves him away with a shake of the head. "i'm fine. i just wish my car could say the same thing. she'll be in the shop for weeks."

"cars can't talk," zhengting jokes, bumping yanjun's elbow lightly.

and yanjun laughs, because only yanjun laughs at his _jokes_.

"no, but, i'll drive you until then!" zhengting volunteers.

"really?" yanjun looks at him, "i mean, i'm a little out of your way."

zhengting dismisses him with a shake of the hand. "definitely!" whatever he has to say next melts on the tip of his tongue when he sees xukun in the corner of his eye, waiting by the stairs.

"thanks, zhengting," yanjun says, "i really owe you."

"mm-hm," zhengting snaps back into himself, flashing yanjun a smile he hopes is bright enough to distract him from noticing the pause in conversation. "i mean, it's nothing. you don't owe me anything," zhengting stops abruptly and takes his books from yanjun's hands. "i actually 'gotta go meet sir li before class to talk about the parade next week. i'll see you at chem?"

yanjun nods, and zhengting waits for him to turn a corner before speed walking to xukun. disappearing behind a flight of stairs and a fire exit door with him.

"was that yanjun?" is the first thing xukun says after hi, and a long kiss.

zhengting narrows his eyes and tilts his head. "you've been classmates since kindergarten."

xukun pretends not to hear him and starts pressing kisses down his neck. "he was carrying your books."

"...congratulations, you have eyes...?"

xukun stops to look at him, eyes so dark and dangerous that zhengting nearly gasps and drops his things. instead, he clutches onto his books and binders tighter. breathing again only when xukun looks away and goes back to kissing his neck.

"he got into that accident, remember? his car's in the shop. i'm driving him until he gets it back."

"his house is a little far from yours."

"how do you know that?"

a handful of minutes before the bell, the moment comes to a stop. xukun presses a kiss to zhengting's cheek one last time before pulling away, grinning.

"we've been classmates since kindergarten."

he pulls the door open for zhengting. "you go first. i'm skipping first period."

zhengting doesn't move from his place for a few seconds, looking at xukun, instead. "are you okay?" he asks softly.

"hm?"

"i mean... from this morning. ..."

xukun pauses, doesn't say yes or no. only smooches him one last time before herding him out the door.

he sits on the ground, pulls out a cigarette to light. leaning back against the wall, he smokes with his eyes to the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this song lowkey a mood forthis whole fic hhh HOPE U LIKED IT ! we never proofread in this house ! can yall believe this fic bouta have some kind of actual plot me neither i am: excited


	20. whistle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zhengting drives yanjun to school. zhengting and yanjun are fifteen minutes late to class. COINCIDENCE? xukun thinks nOT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the cheap cliches peaked ya'll

eight days. zhengting has been driving yanjun to school and yanjun has been carrying zhengting's books into class for exactly eight days.

xukun has been counting.

and it seems that eight days is all it takes for zhengting to completely abandon everything he believes in—xukun thinks to himself, waiting behind a row of lockers, hallway empty, eyes trained on the main entrance. he risks being fifteen minutes late to a subject he never attends just to wait for zhengting.

and there zhengting goes, walking in through the doors in no hurry at all. laughing at something yanjun says, so absorbed in the conversation that he doesn't notice xukun.

xukun appears from nowhere and grabs his wrist.

"hey—"

" _hey_."

"—hey!"

yanjun reacts faster than zhengting does; gripping xukun gripping zhengting. xukun doesn't back down one inch, soft eyes tearing away from zhengting to stare, unblinking, at yanjun. and yanjun, he doesn't seem phased at all. not one bit afraid or scared, as anyone else would be. he stares at xukun, and xukun stares back, and panic rises in zhengting's throat (butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.)

slowly, gently, as if he's diffusing a bomb, he takes his hand away from xukun's grasp, and pushes yanjun's hand away from xukun's wrist.

"it's okay, yanjun," zhengting smiles at him, "don't be late another minute to class."

"you sure?" yanjun talks to him as if he's the only person around, taking half a step closer. half a step too close, and xukun would have lunged at him if zhengting hand's quietly squeezed his pinky.

"yeah," zhengting nods.

yanjun looks at zhengting, at xukun, up and down xukun's body, and back to zhengting. "you're really sure?"

"yeah!" zhengting repeats more brightly, taking his books from yanjun. "i'll see you later."

hesitantly, suspicious eyes lingering, yanjun nods goodbye and jogs to class.

xukun grabs zhengting's wrist again, dragging him down a flight of stairs and shoving him right outside of the fire exit.

"ow!" zhengting exclaims when xukun presses him against brick wall, wrist pinned beside his head,

but he can't help the little grin that pulls at the corner of his lips. xukun raises an eyebrow when he sees it.

"what was that?"

"you're jealous." zhengting holds xukun's face in his hand.

"you like me like this?"

zhengting doesn't answer, bites his lip, looks to the side. xukun does that thing he likes, seeking his eyes out and forcing them back to his.

"you're fifteen minutes late, zhengting."

"you never even attend first period—!"

"where were you?"

zhengting doesn't answer immediately. he pauses to take in the heat coloring xukun's cheeks, how pretty his eyes look this close and this angry, how kissable the little pout on his lips makes him.

"i ran over a nail and got a flat tire," he answers.

immediately, without question, xukun believes him. zhengting can always tell whether or not xukun believes him. but xukun doesn't let go of his wrist or step an inch away, and zhengting pushes his luck with a kiss.

xukun pulls away with raised eyebrows. zhengting backs himself up against the wall, genuinely afraid and genuinely attracted.

and xukun steps another half inch forward, completely taking up the space between them. "who said you could do that?" he says, low and dangerous.

zhengting swallows thickly, sugar and bile barely down his throat before xukun is crashing their lips together. all open-mouthed and dirty and too-wet, too-hot. it takes all the strength he has not to let go of the books in his arm, free arm wrapped around xukun's neck, grabbing at his hair and scratching at his back and, with all his might, pulling xukun closer and closer and closer towards him.

they kiss for a while. seconds, hours, days.

xukun stops kissing him abruptly, and zhengting crashes with the momentum. reeling, whining, motor controls shot when he doesn't even notice how fast his hand grabs at xukun's shirt. how tight he grips.

xukun's eyes trail from his lips to his hand, very firmly removing the nails clawing at his shirt.

"xukun, please..." zhengting begs for something he doesn't know, feeling awkwardly hot, arms useless.

"you're late for class," xukun says gently, smoothing zhengting's shirt down, pressing a kiss too soft to his neck. zhengting whines too loudly. "we'll talk later."

"we will?"

xukun presses another kiss to his throat.

zhengting spends his whole hour in first period with wenjun's jacket spread out on his lap, thinking about roadkill kittens and crying puppies.

  

***

 

"i'm cold," justin shivers in study hall, wrapping arms around himself as he fakes opening his history book.

wenjun offers him his jacket, but justin almost jumps away as the piece of clothing threatens to touch his skin.

"ew! i don't want zhengting's boner hoodie!" he yells in a whisper, forcing a whining chengcheng out of his sweater instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CANT STAND JEALOUS BOYFRIEND XUKUN EITHER BUT......its who he is.....soft boy who doesnt know how to act around someone he loves.........hope u all liked it..mwa......more soon..


	21. playing with fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this xukun](https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/1014586585365413892/1014586562837770240/OvEUe6EZ.jpg) but with listen to what i say hair................

"kunkun, where's your car...?" zhengting asks as he walks up to xukun in the parking lot, books in hand, hoping to drive home together but all that greets him is a big motorcycle with a leather jacket and one (1) helmet hanging on the handle. subtly, he looks around for a second helmet. 

"gave it to my cousin," xukun answers coolly, lollipop stick between his lips, knockoff ray bans over his eyes. looking too-cool, too zzz-this-place-is-a-snooze-fest. zhengting shifts uncomfortably, making his eyes bigger and cuter when he blinks. he opens his mouth to say something when xukun cuts him off—"we never ride anymore, anyway," xukun says, pushing his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose so that they sit at the tip and he looks cool.

it's almost eight at night, no sun in the sky, no reason to wear sunglasses sans to look cool. and nobody is left on campus save for the janitors, a few enthusiastic teachers, and a handful of students; club officers and overachievers all walking home from a long day of club officiating and overachieving. 

"oh..."

"it was kind of the only reason i fixed her up," xukun tells zhengting, and zhengting tells himself that xukun didn't mean to make him feel bad.

"oh," zhengting parrots, because he doesn't know what else to say.

"'sides," xukun clears his throat, patting the leather seat, "i've wanted one of these since i was a kid.

i'll give you a ride on the weekend or something."

brazenly, zhengting steps into xukun's space, placing his books down on the motorcycle seat to wrap his arms around xukun's neck, "how about you give me a ride now?" he grins playfully, surprised—so very _relieved_ —when xukun replies with a chuckle, a dark grin, a deep kiss. with hands on his waist, with pulling him closer. zhengting sighs against his lips—again, _so very relieved_.

"here?" xukun teases, surprised when zhengting replies with lips on his neck and,

"yeah. here. on your motorcycle."

xukun laughs, rubbing his thumbs into zhengting's bones when he pulls away. surprised again when he finds little glittering flicks of sincerity in zhengting's eyes. he presses a kiss atop zhengting's nose. "you're adorable. but we should go home," he says.

"you're not taking me?" 

"you have your car. and i only have one helmet."

zhengting pouts. "i let wenjun take my car because he got a flat tire," he says, sad for all of another second before lighting up with a brilliant idea. "oh!" he takes his phone out of his pocket and starts typing rapidly, "yanjun's still here. he got his car fixed yesterday. i'll just ask if he can take me home. he owes me a bunch, anyway."

"what?"

"sent!"

xukun stares at zhengting. zhengting smiles back, gives him a quick little kiss. then another on his right cheek, on his left cheek, on his chin, all over his face. and all xukun can do is sigh, forget that he wanted to protest, forget everything he wanted to say.

he forgets up until a shiny, tacky 2018-model toyota pulls up in front of them. out steps yanjun, all too tall, too handsome, too many dimples. 

it doesn't take much.

just zhengting smiling, giving him a hug. zhengting kissing xukun goodbye. zhengting calling shotgun although there's nobody else around just because he wants to be cute. zhengting running ahead and getting in the car first. yanjun taking zhengting's books from the seat of xukun's motorcycle. yanjun winking at xukun. xukun knowing exactly what he means.

it doesn't take long.

all four of xukun's bony knuckles landing square against yanjun's ridiculously defined jawline. it hurts, but zhengting's books have fallen to the parking lot floor, and yanjun has stumbled backwards, and all xukun can do is hit him again. it takes just another bruised cheek before yanjun finds himself and shoves xukun back. 

"what the fuck, man?!" 

"i fucking saw that, you fucking pig—" xukun has barely finished his sentence when he throws his next punch, another good shot landing right where he wants. but this time, yanjun punches him back after pushing him away again. xukun can already feel what the blackeye looks like, but he dives in to get another shot in, then another, another. elbow against jaw against forehead against fist against chin. they're just about to tackle each other into the asphalt when zhengting comes in between them and pushes yanjun away.

all instinct, all worried, all confused.

"stop it!" he yells at both of them, standing in front of xukun, looking at yanjun, then xukun, then again.

"he threw the first shot, zhengting," yanjun says with a finger pointed, glaring at xukun with a bluing cheek.

xukun laughs at how fucking stupid he thinks yanjun looks. like a greasy fucking smurf, he thinks. fucking idiot who doesn't know how to fight, he thinks.

"xukun?!" zhengting questions loudly when xukun doesn't reply after a second.

"oh he knows what he fucking did," xukun's face scrunches into irritation, waving a hand off as he turns around and heads to his motorcycle.

"where are you going?!" zhengting calls.

xukun picks up his helmet, walks back to zhengting, then puts it on zhengting's head. he grabs zhengting's wrist and drags him away. and zhengting doesn't really know why he didn't ask questions, if he was even in control of his body anymore as he got onto the motorcycle after xukun, without being told to. as he wrapped his arms around xukun's body, as he sat still, looking at yanjun, as the engine came alive.

"screw yourself, yanjun," xukun says, "because my boyfriend isn't going to."

and as they speed away to the road back home, there are only these: words unsaid and ignored stoplights, leather clutched too tightly, hearts beating too quickly.

—

the engine whirs to a stop, and zhengting steps onto the sidewalk, gives back xukun's helmet. he combs through his messy hair in silence. xukun stares at the ground in silence.

"you told him i'm your..." zhengting breaks the quiet.

and xukun knows what he means. he knows that he was careless. and he knows about all the doors he opened, how a lot of them lead to alligators and piranhas and spikes, how there are a hundred million ways that this could go wrong.

and zhengting knows this, too. but, still, he has to bite his lip so he won't smile.

xukun's eyes are fixed on the same piece of the dirt on the ground when he speaks. "i'm not wrong."

zhengting can't help the laugh that tumbles past his lips. he throws his arms around xukun, presses a kiss onto his cheek. "good night, xukun," he says softly, holding xukun's face in one hand, not even trying to resist the urge to kiss his lips. "we'll figure it out in the morning."

"do you want me to be sorry?"

"... not about us, no. ... never about us."

zhengting kisses him one last time, and xukun watches as he walks down the block. waving back when zhengting turns the corner to his street, smiles and waves goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOPE U LIKED IT MWA


	22. ddu-du ddu-du

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one time, triple z punched me in the face. it was awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERES TRIPLE Z THE CAMPUS KINGS THE SCHOOL HEARTTHROBS THE MOST POPULAR KIDS IN SCHOOL WOWOW

"you still haven't told me where we're going..." zhengting says as he pulls his necktie off, his pressed white button-up off, his undershirt off. the only way to convince his parents to let him out on a late friday night was a lie, of course. xukun sits patiently in the driver's seat and watches him change through the rearview mirror.

"eyes on the road, perv."

"we're not even moving."

zhengting chuckles, buttoning up his blue, white-lined silk pyjama shirt. "i know. i just wanted to say it." he leaves the top button undone, pulls on xukun's big leather jacket and calls it a day. climbing in from the back into the passenger seat, yelping when xukun suddenly grabs his waist and pulls him into his lap.

zhengting squeals when his butt accidentally presses on the car horn, laughing about it with xukun as xukun pulls him closer and away from the steering wheel. all lips crashing together, awkward positions, messy kiss and zhengting's chest in xukun's face. and xukun biting a bright red mark where zhengting can't hide it. and zhengting, caught off-guard, too late to help the moan that escapes him,

" _xukun_ ," comes his name, all saccharine and sacrilegious. neck hurting and lips swollen from kissing xukun too much, but kissing him more, anyway.

suddenly all the way turned on, zhengting shifts to sit properly in his lap. but xukun stops him, grinning. "later," xukun says, breathlessness betraying how suave he could have looked, "there's a bed where we're going."

zhengting blinks at him, before deciding to stomach the blue-balls and nodding. getting off of xukun's lap to sit beside him, pulling his seatbelt on and still peering at his boyfriend quietly as they roll into the highway. eyes fluttering, biting his lip.

they're two minutes into their trip, going sixty miles an hour when zhengting asks, "can i suck you off?"

"... yeah," xukun answers, grip on the steering wheel tightening.

 

—

 

an hour, a blowjob and a brush with death later, the car engine grumbles to a stop. zhengting wakes up from his nap surrounded by cars, looking at a big house ahead of them. he looks over to xukun, who smiles and says good morning.

zhengting hops out of the car and stretches, belly button and hints of his tattoo peering from behind his jeans before his shirt covers up the rest of him again. they walks to the house together, xukun's arm around his waist. force of habit, zhengting looks around consciously.

"don't worry," xukun says, "no people from school here except xingjie, yanchen and rui."

zhengting starts hearing the music and the chatter more clearly the nearer they get to the house.

"yanchen?" zhengting wonders aloud, squinting at everyone around them, because everyone looks just slightly older. "what is this? why are you being mysterious?"

"isn't that my charm?"

zhengting's hits xukun's stomach, and xukun laughs. stopping just a few feet away from the door.

"this is a college party," he tells zhengting, unsurprised when the first reply is wide eyes and disbelief. "i know parties freak you out a bit. and i really wanted to take you here tonight."

"xukun!" zhengting hits his arm.

"don't worry!" xukun holds both of zhengting's arms to prevent further injury. "i'll watch after you. we're not 'gonna get wasted or anything, alright? we're just 'gonna support xingjie and have a good time."

"support xingjie?"

xukun wraps his arm around zhengting's waist again as they walk inside, all dim lights and neon signs and alcohol and music. zhengting barely notices that he's holding a cup filled with something bitter until he sees it. 

"yeah, he organized this for his frat."

"xukun!" zhengting wriggles out of his hold, standing in front of him instead, "this is a _frat_ party?!"

"relax, baby," xukun says, rubbing zhengting's arm, "it's just a party."

worry paints itself over zhengting's face, but he doesn't push off xukun's arm or ask to leave. instead, he pouts. "how is xingjie even in a college fraternity? he's not even in college yet." 

xukun shrugs, downing the liquid in his cup and encouraging zhengting to do the same.

 

—

 

zhengting shouldn't be surprised that zhu xingjie is involved in something too-cool-for-high-school like a college fraternity. him and his friends, zhou yanchen and zhou rui—triple z, as the student body so affectionately called them—were immensely popular and well-known for being 1) hot, 2) too good at anything, or for anything, and 3) the biggest middle school bullies, after all. but, still, the scale of the party takes him aback.

he has never been to anything so... _wild_. sure, yanjun threw a great party a year or two ago that zhengting couldn't remember most of, but this, he thinks, is on an entirely new level. boys and girls doing pull-ups and flips on surfaces and ledges that weren't made to hold so much weight, everyone kissing, everyone drinking, everyone smoking and sharing the same cigarette, loose limbs and loud talk, and he swears he saw someone take a heart-shaped pill.

just mildly afraid and secretly having fun feeling like a badass, he huddles close to xukun. at least one arm wrapped around xukun's arm at all times.

"xukun! zhengting!" yanchen calls, making it through the crowd to get to xukun and zhengting. he arrives with rui behind him, shaking xukun's hand and clapping his back before rui does the same. hugging zhengting hello, like he knows zhengting likes.

he greets them with a sparkly smile, and zhengting tells himself that he's not distracted by how well yanchen's shirt fits. (coincidentally, xukun is telling himself the same thing.)

"hey, chenchen," zhengting greets, bewildered by everything unfolding before him.

"glad you could come, zhuzhu," yanchen replies, pulling out money from his pocket and handing it to xukun.

"what?" asks zhengting as he watches everything happen.

"i bet that xukun couldn't get you to come," yanchen explains with a laugh.

xukun presses a kiss to zhengting's cheek, and zhengting rolls his eyes. "he lied to me," zhengting fakes sadness.

yanchen hits xukun's shoulder playfully. "i told you i'd kick your ass if you hurt him, didn't i?"

"you're just sour you lost the bet," xukun bites back, laughing along with everyone else.

 

—

 

the night turns out better than zhengting would have ever expected if he knew where they were going in the first place, and he turns out a little more drunk than he thought he ever would. he supposes sucking off a beer hose because they were pretending it was xukun's dick, slurping alcohol off of xukun's collarbones, and being too competitive trying to outdrink an experienced college frat boy, has something to do with it.

but he doesn't think too hard about it. for the first time in his life, he doesn't think too hard about one thing. all he's thinking about is keeping his bladder in check, standing outside the only available bathroom in the entire house.

 

he almost screams in joy when the lock clicks and the door swings open. but out steps lin yanjun, all silver hair and dressed up and a little fucked up and dashing. he stops in his tracks when he sees zhengting.

"zhengting," he greets, grinning, "didn't expect to see you... _here_."

and zhengting, he doesn't know what to make of it. doesn't know what to feel, doesn't know if he's mad at yanjun or not, if he should be, if he should be sorry or angry or upset, or anything at all. he doesn't know what to think about it, about seeing yanjun, and seeing him too far away from xukun, and knowing what yanjun knows. he doesn't know what to say, if he should apologize, or yell, or say something.

he thinks he has to say something.

"hey, about your books—" 

"yanjun, i—" zhengting feels it all coming out like word vomit—

no, _actual_ vomit. he's throwing up before he can even realize, barely hearing xukun or yanjun or the hundreds of passers-by saying 'ew.'

"zhengting!" xukun dashes when he sees the situation, immediately grabbing zhengting's shoulders and helping him up. belatedly realizing who's in front of them. 

he recognizes yanjun a second late, eyes trailing from his face to his shoes when he figures it out. laughing at what he sees when he sees it, laughing at the disgust on yanjun's face.

he doesn't even say anything, only laughs as he herds zhengting away.

 

—

 

"what happened, kunkun? where am i?" zhengting stirs awake, all tucked in bed and fresh clothes and hair still damp from a shower he doesn't remember taking.

"morning," greets a voice entirely different. he rubs his eyes to see yanchen sitting beside him in bed. immediately, zhengting's eyes blow wide, glancing down the covers to see if he's still even clothed, just on the edge of being completely horrified when yanchen speaks again.

" _kunkun_ 's making breakfast," yanchen says, just lightly teasing, "rui only has one guest room in his house, so we all crashed here. no one was awake enough to drive all the way back."

"oh," zhengting nods slowly, sitting up. yanchen puts his newspaper down and rolls out of the queen-sized mattress.

"let's go have breakfast," he calls, leaving the door open after he exits. "zeren's downstairs too. he's 'gonna drive us back."

zhengting rubs his head, sinking back into the pillows. your very first hangover!, xukun congratulates him later. and zhengting makes a promise that it will be his last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tht was probs boring i just wanted to introduce triple z :))


	23. really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a mess

"... ... ... stop—stop—yanjun just—" ziyi hits and pushes at yanjun blindly, "get off of me—pull outpullout—"

"what?" yanjun asks, laughing as he pulls out, as ziyi flips them over and pins him down, as ziyi grabs the bottle of lube on the table and slicks himself up messily. pushing yanjun's knees apart, aligning himself in between slender legs. and yanjun asks, but he already knows what's going to happen because it has happened so many times before.

ziyi leans over yanjun, haphazardly hooks one leg over his shoulder before pushing into him. almost slowly, just almost. just yanjun's head tilting back, eyes shutting close, jaw slacking open for a moan to tumble out.

and ziyi, barely pausing before he's jackhammering. his hips are moving to a rhythm so easily and carelessly set. to a rhythm that hurts yanjun, that makes him feel good, that has the living room couch shaking out of place a few inches. he has to grab onto the arm rest above yanjun's head to anchor himself, becoming greedier, hips more violent, so close to the edge that he can barely hear anything.

he comes in streaks of hot white down yanjun's thighs, no warning signs or tell-tales. 

"oh, fuckshitdude," ziyi makes a mad grab for the tissue box on the table, so he can wipe the come off of yanjun's leg before it stains the cushion.

"suckitoffsuckitoff," he says urgently, grabbing at yanjun's hair because he's still not completely empty and wiping it off himself seems a little too sad for his taste. yanjun gets on his hands and knees, and ziyi practically shoves his dick down yanjun's throat. 

ziyi sighs in relief, staring at how pretty yanjun looks with his lips wrapped around his cock and his cheeks all hollow for a moment, before his eyes flutter close. hands running through yanjun's hair, as if to say he's a good boy.

and yanjun swatting his hand away, reminding him it's xukun who likes that. 

—

"yeah, i'm not doing anything," ziyi says into the phone as he watches yanjun get dressed. yanjun pulling his shirt back on, his jeans, his jacket, stepping into his shoes. slinging his bag over his shoulder and taking the stack of books on the table.

ziyi hangs up and throws his phone to the side. "didn't know you read so much."

"they're not mine."

from the corner of his little eye, ziyi spies a familiar pink sticker-tag stuck onto the spines of all the books. he squints. zhu-zheng-ting, they read.

"zhengting?"

yanjun grins, pocketing his keys. if only out of sheer curiosity, ziyi follows yanjun out to the front door.

"you should stay away from that," ziyi says, chuckling.

"hm?"

"i'm just saying."

"zhengting and xukun?"

"... what about them...?"

"they're together, right?" yanjun stops by the door, tilts his head. "aw, come on. of course you knew."

"who told you?"

"xukun," yanjun answers, the syllables bitter on his mouth.

"you two are close now?"

"he almost broke my nose. so, no, we're not."

"wait, what?"

yanjun shrugs. ziyi shakes his head.

"don't do it, bro."

"i'm _just_ returning his books."

 

——

 

"then," zhengting vibrates excitedly, leaning so close into wenjun that he's almost sitting on him, " _HE TOLD YANJUN I WAS HIS BOYFRIEND_ ," he continues, whispering it so loudly and so giddily that he falls all over wenjun after he says it. a giggling, laughing, happy mess, wrapping his arms around wenjun, squeezing him like a stress ball.

wenjun chuckles, watching as xukun walks in through the student council office's door. as xukun glares down anyone who side-eyes him for even being there. 

wenjun helps zhengting off of him and nods towards xukun. "having him here is a little suspicious, don't you think?"

zhengting shrugs.

"hey," he greets, scooting over so xukun can sit beside him, resisting the intense urge to call him baby and kiss him.

"h—" xukun barely gets a word out before the door opens again, lin yanjun stepping in.

" _the_ _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?" xukun sneers.

"i'm _just_ returning his books," yanjun replies, sighing in exasperation because he feels as if he's been saying the same thing over and over and over again. he places the books on the nearest table, holding his hands up in the air as if to say he's innocent. "have a good day," he says, nodding towards zhengting before walking out.

xukun barely sees it. how zhengting looks at wenjun, and wenjun looks back, then zhengting is running out the door and wenjun holds xukun back when he tries to get up and follow.

"hey, yanjun," zhengting finds him a short jog down the hallway.

yanjun turns around, tilts his head to one side as if he knows he looks good doing it. "hey, zhengting."

zhengting pulls his sweater sleeves over his fingers, touches yanjun's arm when he speaks. "you... you won't tell, right...? i mean... you know..."

"you and xukun?"

and yanjun's voice is a little too loud. zhengting bites his lip and looks around. "yeah."

"i mean, he did almost break my nose."

"yanjun, please—"

"i'm kidding," yanjun laughs, ruffling zhengting's hair, "i won't. higher chances of that if you find me a four-to-five sched with that bio tutor, though. i heard no one he's tutored has ever failed. and i'm not staying here an extra year. what's his name again? yangshin?"

"... zhangjing? but all of his four-to-five's are full and—"

yanjun raises an eyebrow. and zhengting, president of the after-school-enrichment-initiative, he nods profusely.

"four-to-five. you got it.

oh, hey," zhengting taps his arm again before he can turn on his heel. "you're coming to my party, right?"

"wouldn't miss it for the world." yanjun throws him a wink, a dashing smile, then walks the other way.

—

"what did he want?" xukun's eyes are narrowed when zhengting comes back.

zhengting sits beside him and shakes his head. "nothing," he smiles, digging his nails into his palms so he won't lean in and kiss xukun square on the mouth. "we're all good."

"oh, hey," zhengting turns to wenjun, "you're coming to my party, right?"

"of course, zhengting."

 

——

 

"that's good, baby. that's so good. _fuck_ , that feels so good." truthfully, xukun has such a fat case of cotton mouth that he can't feel the words on his tongue. he's just vaguely aware that he's talking, watching the stars float by behind his eyelids as zhengting sucks his dick to death.

zhengting is so fucking good at this, he thinks. and he thinks he says it out loud, but he can't really be sure.

and zhengting, with his hands all over xukun and his mouth wrapped around xukun's cock. with his lips all hollow and the air all hot. he slides his lips further down the shaft, further down until he feels like vomiting, then back up, then down again. it's a messy thing, he knows. but messy is as messy does, and he already has precum dripping down his neck, anyway.

"you could at least look at me," zhengting says, mouth all swollen, xukun's dick pressed against his cheek, one hand hitting xukun's thigh.

"no, i don't 'wanna come yet," xukun tells him, shutting his eyes even tighter. desperate to be back in zhengting's mouth.

"aw... baby..." 

"mhm," is as intelligent as xukun's words can get, jaw going slack as zhengting takes him back into his mouth. barely done riding his orgasm down zhengting's throat when

" _zhengting. we're home_ ," comes a man's voice, muffled by the door and a few flights of stairs. 

zhengting shoots up in panic, eyes blown wide. panicking and panicking and panicking. 

"i thought they weren't—"

" _FUCK_ ," zhengting hisses, throwing on clothes as fast as he can. emptying a bottle of febreeze into his room, throwing xukun's clothes at him and pushing him under the bed.

" _HIDEHIDEHIDE_ ," zhengting instructs sharply, blinking hard. he douses his eyeballs with drops then throws the tiny bottle under the bed to xukun.

a flash of clothes pulled on, hair combed and perfume sprayed later, the door is locking shut. zhengting running down the stairs, running into his mother who was already halfway up.

"where were you?" she reprimands gently, "the groceries are in the car. go help your father."

"sorry, mom." he runs out of the door like the obedient son he is, buttoning his polo shirt all the way up.

 

——

 

xukun knows what's happening before it even happens. it's funny, he thinks, how they're in the exact same place doing the exact same thing. 

these bleachers are cursed, he declares to himself. these bleachers bring nothing but bad luck.

"come on, zhengting," xukun tries to touch zhengting's shoulder, and sighs in exasperation when he moves his arm away.

"what?" 

"seriously?" xukun snaps.

and there's a moment of quiet. a tiny pause in time. because zhengting hadn't expected xukun to get so upset so quickly, and xukun had expected so much more from him.

xukun leans back, shakes his head. he takes out the only emergency cigarette in his bag and lights it. it feels heavy in his chest, something like guilt. something like doing something good then feeling bad about it. something like doing something bad and feeling bad about it.

that's how it should be, he thinks. doing something bad, feeling bad, then talking about it.

but he wonders if they did anything bad.

"not this shit again," he sighs under his breath.

"what?"

" _not this shit again_ , zhengting," xukun says more clearly. "i thought we talked about this."

"..."

"you can't blame me whenever something bad happens," xukun parrots. "nothing bad even happened! they didn't see us, okay? we didn't—" and he doesn't want to say it. 'get caught,' as if they're criminals, as if they were cutting up a man into pieces and burying him in the backyard, as if they were robbing a bank, or bombing a city. he doesn't want to say it, "we didn't get _caught_."

zhengting pretends they're talking about something else. so, xukun takes a few more hits of his own bad habit.

he stubs the cigarette and flicks it away carelessly. "whatever," he says, zipping up his backpack. "i told my mom about us."

he sniffs, pretends it's just the humidity. he hadn't expected the words to be so difficult to say.

"i was going to invite you to dinner this weekend or whatever. but you're being an asshole," he says, getting up first and walking away. voice fading as he calls, "when you're ready to stop being two-fucking-years-old, you know where to find me."

 

——

 

"your mom's a good cook."

"she loves you."

"hey, xukun..." zhengting dries his hands, unable to help the urge to look around before walking up behind xukun and wrapping his arms around him.

"mm?" xukun hums over suds and sponges.

"i'm sorry..."

"... for what this time?" xukun jokes. zhengting hugs him tighter.

"that i haven't told my parents."

"or anyone. besides your two friends," xukun chuckles.

"i have seven friends," zhengting quips defensively, and xukun laughs.

"i want to," zhengting says, rubbing xukun's stomach.

"okay, now you're just feeling me up," xukun teases, shaking his hands dry and turning around. he guides zhengting's arms around his neck, and rests his hands on either side of zhengting's waist. always so close to each other that their hearts beat in sync.

"i want to. i do. it's just— with first exams and the final voting coming up and everything, it feels like too much and i—"

"it's fine," xukun says softly.

"i'm not ready," zhengting blurts out, blinking wide brown eyes. "i mean, my parents... they're not... they're not like your mom. ... they don't..."

"i get it," xukun says when zhengting's words break apart and scatter. "i'll wait. you know i'll wait."

and zhengting can't find the right words for it, for the feeling in his stomach, or the tingling of his skin. he rests his head on xukun's shoulder instead, wondering how he can make a moment last forever.

"oh, hey," he presses a kiss to xukun's neck, "you're coming to my party, right?" 

"kiss me there again and i'll reconsider."

zhengting chuckles, kissing the same spot again so hard that he leaves a blooming red mark.

 

——

 

"the mitochondria is the...?"

"powerhouse of the cell."

"good! that's correct. alright, next: the nucleus is responsible for...?"

"... ... being... the... ... ...  p...owerhouse... of the cell......."

"..."

"..."

"let's start again."

 


	24. say it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zhengting doesn't regret what he did.

zhengting would say he regrets what he did, but he's not really sure that he does. scratch that. he doesn't regret what he did at all.

but still, overthinking is his signature character trait. so, he overthinks everything from the night that it happened to the next morning. he overthinks through his shower, through his sleep, in his dreams and all through the next day. as he eats breakfast, as he drives to school. as he thinks about seeing xukun, as he sees xukun.

and he's still thinking about it as he walks up to their usual meet-up spot by the lockers, as he slips out of the fire exit unnoticed. as he stands under a sun just barely risen.

and zhengting is still thinking about it as xukun looks at him. still thinking about it, eyes on the ground, chewing on his lip.

"was it an accident?"

zhengting stares at the tips of their shoes, swallowing thickly, blinking wordlessly.

"no," he answers a heartbeat too late.

"you... _wanted_ to do it?" 

"... yeah."

xukun stares at him for all of a moment.

"was it the first time?"

"... yes."

"what did you want me to do, zhengting?"

and zhengting bites his lip hard, as if he wants the vessels underneath to break.

"what do you want to happen now?"

"i..." zhengting barely squeaks out, throat out of a voice before he can even breathe again.

"will you do it again?"

"... ... yes. ..."

xukun steps forward, so dangerously close that zhengting has to bury his nails into his palms so he won't flinch.

this isn't nearly as awkward as he thought it would be. then again, nothing is happening the way he thought it would.

xukun says nothing as he steals the last inch of space between them, so close to zhengting that their bodies are touching. clothes rustling together. he steps close, hands quick to undo this and unzip that. zhengting quick to flinch, nearly biting his tongue off when xukun's fingers wrap around him. start stroking, squeezing.

"what did you do after you sent me that?" is the question whispered into zhengting's ear, xukun's voice dropping a whole octave and sending tingles down his spine.

zhengting put all of his clothes back on, threw his phone across the room, then ran to bed and tried to disappear forever. but, that's not really a sexy thing to say.

"i..." he gets caught up thinking of what to say, and xukun squeezes a little too hard. all of his words melting into the little moan that tumbles past his lips.

and he's already hard, and xukun isn't letting up. xukun's lips pressed to his neck, zhengting had hoped that he wouldn't answer when he asked,

"w-what did _you_ do... after i— _mm_... —after i... sent it...?"

zhengting shuts his eyes, and he doesn't see the grin that spreads across xukun's mouth.

"what do you think i did, babe?"

and zhengting doesn't answer at first, so xukun pushes back getting on his knees to bite at the lobe of zhengting's ear.

"tell me," he says, grip around zhengting at a pause, zhengting gripping his shoulder too tight.

and in his desperation, zhengting answers, "i wanted you to... to like it... i wanted you to..."

xukun strokes long and slow, and zhengting lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. when he doesn't answer, xukun tugs a little too hard.

"ow—" zhengting exclaims breathily, biting his tongue as soon as he opens his mouth, "don't pull—" he hisses. xukun smirks, stroking too slow again. and zhengting thinks that he has no choice.

"i wanted you to jack off to it..." zhengting answers softly, voice so quiet and eyes so shy and words so crass that xukun's brain dries of blood. and zhengting thinks that if he had a second more and his thesaurus with him, he would have thought of another way to say it. but xukun's _hand_ is around his _dick_ , and half of his brain is thinking about xukun's _mouth_ around his _dick_ , and there isn't much space to think about anything else but trying to breathe.

xukun almost laughs, but he grins instead and presses a kiss to zhengting's neck. hand running a rhythm again, running a faster beat. "slut," he says under his breath.

"don't call me that..." zhengting manages to say by a miracle, sounding as if he's sad about it.

" _don't_?"

and zhengting bites his lip because he doesn't want to lie.

"getting beat off in school before classes even start," xukun scoffs, stroking faster. "only sluts do that."

and it gets harder and harder and harder to keep quiet and to keep breathing steady, and zhengting starts breathing out of his mouth. tiny, breathy moans. filthier than anything xukun has ever done.

"where do you want to come?"

"inyourmouth," zhengting answers too quick, leg trembling, almost taking xukun aback. making him laugh.

"you're so fucking filthy, zhengting. you know that?" xukun pushes, getting onto his knees and winking at zhengting before taking him into his mouth. and zhengting comes barely seconds later, throwing his head back, jaw going slack as he tries to get as much air back into his lungs as he can. knees almost jelly, half a mind to push xukun off but he doesn't. only leans back against the wall as xukun sucks him off and swallows.

when he gets back up, he helps zhengting back into his jeans. stopping his hands when they start trying to unbuckle his belt.

"zhengting, n—" but zhengting looks up at him with wide, clueless eyes. and it's the only thing that makes him second guess caring about his boyfriend's attendance record. instead of telling zhengting to run off to class so he won't be late, xukun pushes him onto his knees and blames him.

"make it quick," he snaps, and zhengting hurries to do what he does.

 

——

 

"you might want to find a new hiding spot," yanchen whispers into his ear as he takes a seat beside him.

and zhengting, all taken aback and clueless. he leans away and rubs his ear, "what?"

" _we_ 're finding a new spot for sure..."

"what are you talking about?"

yanchen chuckles, talking with a bite of apple in his mouth, "i was 'gonna skip first period with zeren but we saw you and..."

zhengting's eyes grow wide. and as if on cue, zeren walks up to their table. nearly dropping his tray of food when zhengting looks up to see him. yanchen sighing when zeren runs away to another table instead of sitting beside him.

"what..."

yanchen pats zhengting's shoulder. "he saw all of it. he said it was like walking into his parents having sex. and he's 'gonna need a while to forget what your dick looked like."

"i—"

 

"don't worry," yanchen waves his hand, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth, "everyone thinks the storage room behind the auditorium is haunted so no one goes there."

zhengting stares at him wide-eyed, and yanchen laughs again.

"everyone does it, 'ting," he smiles. "relax."

 

——

 

"the organelle that contains dna is..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"yanjun, i would really appreciate if you read the book..."

"i'm sorry, zhangjing... ... i'll buy you lunch tomorrow."

"... ... ... ... okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yea.....................have a great day..


	25. forever young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> his heart is hammering against his ribs when he hears zhengting scream. immediately, xukun dashes to the door. to see the danger, to save him.

the party is in full swing by the time wenjun arrives, all greased hair and leather jacket and denim pants. 

"oh! oh!" zhengting, blonde wig almost falling off of his pretty little head as he bounces in excitement, he claps his hands and points repeatedly at wenjun. wenjun chuckles, if only because zhengting's concentration face is the cutest face he has. all beauty mark and red lips and lined eyes. "that guy from grease... the greaser guy... danny zuko! you're danny zuko!" he practically screams the answer, so incredibly pleased with himself that he leans his cheek out towards xukun for a well-deserved smooch.

wenjun smiles and nods. and xukun, arm discreetly around zhengting's waist, he rubs zhengting's bones in congratulations.

"and you're marilyn monroe," wenjun guesses easily. then, he looks over to xukun, eyes going up and down. "and you're a—"

"shh," xukun stops him, grinning when zhengting's smile melts into a pout.

"just tell me!" zhengting whines, eyes glassy with inebriation. and xukun laughs again at his expense. and while they're having too much of a good time to remember the time, wenjun's eyes dart around.

"the whole school's here, zhengting," he reminds gently, taking the cup of alcohol from zhengting's hand, "don't get too drunk."

"i'm"— _hiccup!_ xukun laughs at the little squeak that comes out of zhengting's mouth, at how wide his eyes get at his own surprise. xukun doesn't stop himself from leaning over to press another kiss to zhengting's cheek.

wenjun's eyes wander down, and only then does he notice xukun's hand, "and don't get too close."

 

—

 

"willy wonka," xinchun the minion guesses.

"a creepy magician with a bad beard," quanzhe, dressed as a middle-aged sub-urban dad, tries.

"did he even wear a costume?" justin quips, and only chengcheng laughs at his joke.

zhengting slaps the side of justin's head and sighs, because his friends are useless and his only useful friend is nowhere to be found. "you're all useless," he frowns, picking up the cups of punch from the table and walking back to xukun.

"can you just tell me who you are?" he complains as he hands over a cup. so restricted by the hundreds of people around them that just the sensation of xukun's fingertips brushing against his skin sends tingles down his spine.

xukun shakes his head as he sips.

"what if i suck your dick," zhengting proposes boldly, and xukun chokes on apple juice and vodka.

"that's not the way to fix problems, zhengting," xukun chuckles too much, and zhengting stares at him hard.

"i mean... it's not the _only_ way..." xukun coughs awkwardly.

"it's your _favorite_ way," zhengting tells him frankly, rolling his eyes, and xukun decides to stop drinking so he won't choke again.

and zhengting stares at him for a second, at his eyes for a second, at his lips. and it's not that he had forgotten, it's just that he has been waiting all night for this moment—just the right moment.

"kidding," zhengting puts his drink down on the nearest surface and reaches for xukun's hand, chuckling giddily as he drags him further away from the crowd in the backyard, "come on. let's go upstairs."

and xukun, disappearing into the quiet, empty inside of zhengting's house, excited with alcohol and the prospect of finally being alone with the boy he loves, he doesn't refuse. he follows a laughing zhengting all the up the stairs. zhengting leads him to his bedroom, where he kisses him by the locked door, and almost loses himself into another kiss on the bed. zhengting giggles stop as he tries to push xukun off and stand. and xukun, all handsy and grabby and pouty, he tugs on zhengting's arm to pull him back.

"but zhengzheng, it's my birthday..." he whines, and zhengting gets pulled onto his lap, into yet another endless kiss until he gathers enough of himself again.

"i'll be right back i'll be right back," he promises as he hurries away, disappearing behind a door that xukun has never seen open.

his heart is hammering against his ribs when he hears zhengting _scream_. immediately, he _dashes_ to the door. to see the danger, to save him.

but all he sees is zhengting, white dress, hand over his mouth, frozen in one place. a room he doesn't recognize. and bi wenjun and ding zeren on a bed he doesn't recognize. all hair messed up and clothes half torn-off. a bottle of alcohol on the bedside table and no cups to be found.

"listen, zhengting—" wenjun starts, attempting to sit up but all zhengting does is blink and step back.

"come on, ting," xukun tries to tear him away gently, sending the boys on the bed a nod, remembering to lock the door behind him.

it's the guest room, he belatedly thinks to himself, as he sits zhengting down gently on the bed.

"... baby, are you crying?" worry creases across xukun's forehead as he wipes away the tears falling down zhengting's face.

and zhengting, a little too intoxicated with the night to remember what he likes and what he doesn't like, he lets xukun wipe away his tears. breaking down into sobs as he buries his head into the crook of xukun's neck. as xukun rubs his back, his shoulder.

and after long minutes, he gathers enough of himself to sit upright again. drying his own cheeks, a little at a loss. not knowing where to look, or what to do with his hands, so xukun seeks his eyes and threads their fingers together.

"where's yanchen?" zhengting asks, inhaling and exhaling shakily, as if it's the most important thing to know.

 

—

 

"are you okay?"

yanchen smiles, the kind of smile that's kind to only person in the world, "you 'gotta know that's a stupid question, ting."

"sorry..."

and he says nothing the way people who have too much to say say nothing.

"did xukun ever tell you what he was dressed as?"

zhengting takes the opportunity to steer the conversation wheel, and tries to drive them as far away from the scene of the crime as possible.

"no," he answers, big pout on his lips, "do you know?"

"yeah," yanchen chuckles.

and zhengting didn't know he could feel that way, feel happy to see someone else's happiness. or, at the very least, a smile on their face. he hits yanchen's arm playfully. "tell me!"

"okay," yanchen replies, rubbing his arm, "i'll come by at eight. i'll tell you then."

"what?!"

but yanchen has already picked up his bag and walked too far away for zhengting to punch. "cheese popcorn!" yanchen yells from afar, and zhengting sighs as writes it down in his notes.

 

—

 

"you don't even drink! you weren't drunk. i would never kiss you if you were drunk."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"you kissed me back."

"it was a game."

"i didn't know you were so competitive..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"ow!"

"a cell that has no nucleus or organelles enclosed in a membrane is called..."

"a prokaryotic cell. now, come on, zhangjing. just rate me and i'll stop."

"..."

"zero to ten. zero being the lowest."

"... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..."


	26. masterpiece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (by big thief) "let's skip school."

"hey, yanchen," zhengting greets, smile bright as morning as he peers at yanchen from the driver's seat. when he woke up to eight (8) text messages from his friend and saw that they had all been sent in 1-second intervals at four (4) in the morning, he had a clear idea why. it had been two weeks since the party, and two weeks since yanchen had spoken to zeren or sat with them at lunch or completed an entire school day.

months ago, zhengting would have judged him and thought that nothing could ever be devastating enough to make him miss a single class. but since boarding the endless roller coaster ride that is his relationship with xukun, he has learned to be withhold judgment and be more understanding.

so, he is kind and understanding. and he doesn't give yanchen shit for feeling like shit. instead, he smiles. and he opens his mouth to say something, but all he takes in is the faint smell of liquor.

"yanchen," zhengting blinks, and only then does he notice how dark the bags under yanchen's eyes are, "are you... drunk?"

yanchen laughs, as if it's such a silly thing to say—or even think. as if being sad about something sad is the funniest thing in the world. "no," yanchen answers with a playful laugh, shaking his head and waving his head—composed drunk that zhengting knows he is. "drunk? what're you talking about 'drunk'? i'm fine let's go to school let's go drive."

zhengting doesn't need to look at his watch to know that they have just enough time to drive to school and be right on time for first period, but one glance at his friend tells him a completely different story.

maybe, the epiphany strikes him, maybe this is what people mean when they say that there are things that are 'larger than life.'

"come on," he says, "let's skip school."

physics dictates that yanchen's head should have fallen off of his neck with the velocity with which he turned to look at zhengting and laugh. he laughs, once then again. slapping the dashboard and pretending to ignore his reflection in the sideview mirrors.

"where's zhengting and what have you done with him?" yanchen chortles, the joke of it all becoming funnier the more he thinks about it.

"no, really," zhengting sighs, punching yanchen's arm, "let's go do something fun. take— ... take your mind off of things. what do you want to do? where do you 'wanna go?"

yanchen slows to a stop, then. he stares at his messy reflection in the sideview mirror and resists the urge to look away. running his fingers through his hair, feeling like a loose screw that'll never quite fit. 

"the beach," he says, sighing softly and staring at his knuckles. all red and bright.

"okay," zhengting nods once and starts the car.

"wait," yanchen zips out of the car and returns carrying his old black french bulldog. "since we're not going to school," yanchen grins.

"hey, xiao bai," zhengting pats the dog's head and scratches behind her ear. he leans down to let the little thing lick his face, scratching under her chin, "you're cute as ever. xiao bai, be honest with me, is daddy drunk?"

the dog barks. yanchen rolls his eyes. and zhengting laughs as he rolls out into the main road and drives towards the sun.

 

—

 

"xukun's cool with this?"

"what?" and zhengting really can't hear him over the waves and the air, and how nice it feels walking barefoot in the sand. they settle down in a nice spot, and zhengting makes quick work of burying his feet into the sand.

"xukun," yanchen repeats, absently scratching xiao bai's head. "you blowing off school to be with me. i know he's a jealous guy. heard he almost broke yanjun's nose for breathing in your direction."

zhengting pretends not to blush and like it, so he turns his head away from the sun and pretends to watch the people strolling along the shore. "i texted him," zhengting answers, "he's coming after lunch, if that's okay."

"yeah. the more the merrier," yanchen says, and he hears it as soon as he says it. "well, i mean, for _some_ things." he collapses back down into the sand and pretends that he's sinking away from the sky.

"yanchen, i'm—"

"it's not your fault for throwing a sick party and having locks on your doors, zhengzheng," yanchen tells him, gloomy and kind, "not your fault."

"have you talked to zeren since?"

yanchen closes his eyes for a moment, if only because the sound of zeren's very name makes his ears ring. "yeah. keeps apologizing, like you."

"maybe—"

"it's been happening for a while," yanchen's tongue burns as soon as he says it, and he feels like he's going blind so he opens his eyes. and he swallows, like keeping vomit in his lungs, like bones breaking. not that it's dramatic, just that it hurts everywhere. and yanchen hates that he gets like this, all twisted up and emotional when it's the last thing he wants to be. "was," he shrugs, can't keep his eyes from rolling, can't look at anything else.

"you know," yanchen starts before zhengting can speak again, "i want to say i don't know why. but..." he trails off, and pauses, and walks farther and farther and farther away until zhengting can't see him anymore. and all zhengting can do is stare, bury yanchen's feet under more sand, and put his dog on his stomach so she can sleep and he can be a little happy.

"my girl's pregnant," yanchen says, rubbing the sleeping dog gently.

zhengting laughs, "really? that's great."

"i'll give you one."

"oh, thanks yanchen but i don't know. i'm pretty busy with—"

"it'll be good for you." yanchen closes his eyes, then. hoping he'll fall asleep, the fuzzy thing sleeping on his tummy the only thing keeping him from wanting to disappear into the clouds.

 

—

 

 

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"not there."

"oh— sorry—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was fuckin lame but yanchen and zhengting are precious <333


	27. white wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (by billy idol) low lows and high high high highs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mention of attempted suicide BUT LIKE DONT WORRY EVERYTHING IS FINE

xingjie blows smoke into the open air and zhou rui pulls his face mask back over his nose. xingjie rolls his eyes, passes the cigarette to yanchen who passes it to zhou rui who passes it back to xingjie. 

"fucking hypocrite," xingjie kicks zhou rui's seat, trying to topple him off onto the floor but he's too far away to catch enough force. but zhou rui gets his ankle and pulls him off of his couch, and they're trying to kill each other again when yanchen's phone vibrates in his pocket.

"i 'gotta take off," yanchen says, pulling on his jacket and heading out the door.

"where're you going?" xingjie looks up from a headlock.

"it's ziyi's birthday."

"no, it's not."

"well... it's _someone_ 's birthday." yanchen shrugs.

and xingjie hurries to free himself from zhou rui so he can catch yanchen at the door, if only because he knows these things with _wang ziyi_ never end well.

"you know things don't go well with ziyi," xingjie grips yanchen's wrist, only realizing how tightly he had been holding on when yanchen yanks his arm free.

"thanks, _dad_. i'm a big boy," yanchen replies, all furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. and it makes xingjie feel like an actual father.

he laughs, running fingers through his hair. "i'm just saying—just stay here, c'mon. i'll pull out the good stuff and roll you one. i have advil and vodka, we can get twice as fucked up as you're 'gonna get at that dumb party."

and though xingjie is sincere and he's trying, and yanchen is a good friend and he's trying. the pull of gravity just isn't enough to keep his feet on the ground. "i can take care of myself," he says as he steps out into the driveway, and all xingjie can do is wave a hand goodbye.

 

—

 

maybe it's eleven p.m. at a corner store, buying sacks of alcohol and a factory birthday cake that makes yanchen's head spin. maybe it's the way the fluorescents look trying to be louder than the headlights, maybe it's the moon being too full. not enough stars and too much of everything else.

there's something about the night. something about the rest of the day that makes everything suddenly seem so promising.

and it's not that yanchen loses himself so easily, it's just that he wants to. it's just that he wants to escape and escape and escape, and he's finally as far away as he can be. so, he runs with ziyi and cracks jokes and snacks on children's chewable cartoon-shaped vitamins pretending it's lsd because someone had forgotten to bring actual lsd.

"fen didn't have to fuck up this hard," ziyi sighs over smoke and sober, "i knew i should've bought from ziyang."

"his stuff's crazy expensive, though."

"yeah, but at least he actually gives you stuff," ziyi frowns over radio static as he pushes and pushes buttons until a song plays clear enough to be heard.

"what did fen say?" and yanchen, he pushes the seat back so he can lie down a little bit. breathing white into the atmosphere, breathing it back into his lungs because it's twice as dirty.

"said he fell asleep and forgot." 

yanchen laughs. "classic qin fen," he says, grabbing a bottle of whatever from the plastic bag in the backseat and popping it open with his teeth. he spits the cork away and looks at the bottle. "why'd you get fucking red wine? where the fuck are we going?"

and ziyi notices too late. his eyes grow big and he takes the bottle away from yanchen before he can damage it. "we're 'gonna stop over my friend's fucking engagement party, you dick." ziyi pushes the screw back down as tight as he can and stores it away, uncapping tequila and shoving it into yanchen's grabby hands.

yanchen downs it like water, and he drinks for so long that ziyi thinks he's trying to waterboard himself. not that ziyi would be the one to stop him, not that ziyi minds.

"tell me about this friend," yanchen says in between gulps.

"huh?"

"your friend. getting engaged. she cute?"

"he's handsome. and gay."

"w—"

"and rich."

"ah." yanchen nods sympathetically, and downs twice the amount of liquid as if in solidarity.

"you two would've gotten along," ziyi tells him as they roll back into the road.

"would have?"

"he was a _real_ party guy. but he's twenty-six now. monkey suits and wife and kids, y'know."

"hope i won't," yanchen answers, drinking just once more. "engaged isn't married, right?"

and ziyi shrugs, the car ride to the pier continuing in total silence.

 

—

 

yanchen is just past the verge of tipsy, lazy grin on his face when they walk up to the entrance of the yacht.

invite only, says the bouncer, who also says their names are not on the list. so, yanchen argues with him and takes shots at his reading level while ziyi tries to make the best of the situation. saying we're just here to drop off a gift, call the groom, he knows me.

"ziyi, what the fuck are you doing here?" greets the handsome guy in his nice pressed suit, sounding angry but looking pleased. and yanchen doesn't know if it's the alcohol or the bowtie that makes him feel confused. maybe it's ziyi suddenly making out with a man two seconds after congratulating him on his marriage, maybe it's the suddenness of everything.

maybe it's the lights on and a bathroom sink too nice to be spilling everything on. maybe it's sitting in a stranger's bathtub, snorting four hours of thc giggles and mdma highs. brushing his teeth with something white, with his finger, with strangers' tongues. and yanchen is halfway through a sixsome  in a bathroom when the groom says he has to go back out, enjoy the party, the wine is to die for.

and the other boys follow suite. yanchen hangs back to stare at his teeth in the mirror. and ziyi, he turns yanchen's hips and presses him against the counter. and he leans close enough to kiss and yanchen laughs.

"you're not a good kisser," yanchen tells him and he means it, even if he's brain half blown out and sad.

"but you're a good liar."

 

—

 

maybe xingjie was right, yanchen thinks as he runs barefoot into the horizon, maybe he was right when he said that things never go well with ziyi. but that seems so far away now that yanchen isn't even sure that he ever said it. he's only sure that they're running, running, running. all asphalt and tiny rocks and yanchen is sure his feet are bleeding and ziyi is screaming at him not to leave a drop of blood behind.

running and running and running, far away from boys with guns because ziyi stole a couple hundred grand from a gangster he already owes his life to. and they're so far away that yanchen isn't even sure they're real, so he stops running to look back. stumbling far back into the alleyway ziyi grabs him into, because it's dark and poison is running through his veins and he wants to find the moon.

"ziyi, what the fuck?" yanchen chuckles, back pressed against ziyi's chest as ziyi clamps a hand over his mouth. and it's quiet for forever, until a group of screaming men run past. pause to look. then, run past again.

ziyi collapses with a sigh, pausing just for a breath. and yanchen chances a look at him, at how the cash bulges from his pocket, and he laughs at how funny it looks.

"is that money you stole from a gang leader or are you just happy to see me?" yanchen winks, and ziyi can't believe his luck. because yanchen never comes onto him or ever wants anything to do with him, and now they're falling asleep in a pile of garbage under the moonlight like it's the friendliest thing ever.

 

—

 

he aces a biology test the next day still half-drunk, with something white between his teeth, like it's nobody's business.

zhengting drags him to the bathroom to wipe his face clean and forces xukun to give him his jacket. and zhengting gets the nurse to write him a note, and zhengting drives him back home. and he pretends he's not awake to hear zhengting tell xukun all about how worried he is.

"please, don't do this again," zhengting says after goodbye, take care, drink lots of water and get some rest. as if they're fifteen again and yanchen just got done trying to lock himself inside a running car in his parent's garage.

and yanchen, blinking too slow and fingers numb. he promises he won't.

 


	28. rose petals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (by s.carey) it's not you, it's me.

waking up in xukun's room always feels the same way. like being swallowed up by sunshine, like being taken by the rain. lashes flutter open to white ceiling and blue sheets and a warm body. and zhengting panics for all of a moment, glancing towards the bedside clock he had gotten for xukun, before seeing saturday and rolling closer towards the boy beside him.

morning, he should say. good morning with a kiss, like a soft hello, like a good way to open the day. but there's a kind of quiet that looms over them, like the heavy gray clouds in the sky just outside xukun's window, telling the dry pavement to wait. so, zhengting waits. xukun's arm curling around his shoulders to pull him in. and zhengting, smiling sleepily, wrapping his arms around xukun's body.

it's something like knowing they can't stay forever this way, but distantly wishing for it, anyway.

then, the rain starts to fall.

"morning," xukun says, pressing a kiss into zhengting's hair. leaning down to kiss him, too, but zhengting leans away.

"go brush your teeth," he tells xukun, pressing a bite into a collarbone. and xukun, begrudgingly, pushed into action only by a deep desire to kiss zhengting. he gets up and drags the both of them into the bathroom. toothbrushes already in the holder by the sink. brushing and brushing and brushing, playing games, waiting each other out. zhengting on the sink with his legs around xukun's body and xukun's tongue running along his teeth. 

and zhengting's floss lays unused by the faucet.

"mom?" xukun is taken aback by the woman in the kitchen, frying pancakes, smiling at them. "didn't know you were home."

"my shift starts later," his mom says, "good morning, zhengting."

"good morning, miss cai," zhengting bows his head, more than a little conscious about the awkwardness of only being in his boxers barely two feet away from his boyfriend's mother. but xukun's mother waves her hand as if to dismiss him, as if to say it's okay, it's fine.

"i'm leaving in a while, don't worry," she laughs mischievously as she serves them plates of breakfast. "i just wanted to make you boys something to eat." she kisses xukun's head, and xukun kisses her cheek. and zhengting laughs at the coziness of it all. of hurried feet and jangling keys, and miss cai saying goodbye almost as soon as she had said hello. the door closing shut, and zhengting halfway through a bite of pancake before xukun is tugging on his arm.

and zhengting, he knows what it means. he rolls his eyes, chewing still as he plops down onto xukun's lap and feeds xukun a bite. and he cranes his neck down for a kiss, like a kind of second nature, before realizing they both still have mouthfuls of food to swallow. he laughs, then. almost unattractive, then he continues chewing through.

and when he kisses xukun, it tastes like orange juice and syrup and rain, and how he wants every morning to be.

 

—

 

"how are the kids?" xukun asks, barely breathless anymore. sneaking in through zhengting's window already a kind of effortless.  

zhengting shrugs, tired from weeks and weeks of trying to wrangle his friends. xukuns plops down on a beanbag. and zhengting, naturally, he lays on top of xukun, on his side, and curls his body weakly. 

"aw, baby," xukun laughs, combing his fingers through zhengting's hair. and a moment passes, all quiet and comfortable. like bones crackling as the fire dies, like the sun setting after years of being in the sky.

"anyway," zhengting sits up to look at xukun, "i didn't call you to cry."

"i know," xukun says, diving straight into what they always do.

"wait," zhengting stops the fingers that try to push his shirt sleeve aside. and xukun looks up at him, confused. and zhengting looks back at him for a moment, before hitting his arm. "not that!" he hisses.

"no?" xukun parrots, totally clueless.

and zhengting shakes his head, sitting up properly and shifting on xukun's lap.

"... are you sure?" xukun comments, and zhengting hits his arm again.

"shut up," zhengting tells him, looking at him then. looking at him the way people do when they have something important to say, so xukun rubs his back to ease him through it. "i wanted to talk about... i mean, i know you want to meet my parents." he pauses, and xukun doesn't know why. but he nods along, anyway.

"yeah. and i know we keep arguing about it and i just... it's tiring, kunkun. i love you—really. and i just don't want to keep arguing about the same thing anymore."

completely understanding, xukun nods along.

"i love you," zhengting repeats, holding his face in between two careful hands, "and _please_  don't take this the wrong way. ... but i just... i can't tell them anytime soon."

and there's a pause in the air, like the moment before a vase hits the ground. like the moment before something crashes. like the sound before a song begins, like a breath in between words. all unsure and uncertain. all quiet, waiting.

"it's okay, zhengting," xukun says, rubbing his back still. and he means it, but zhengting can't hear much over his own voice echoing inside his head.

"i'm so sorry, xukun. i just can't do it right now. i've tried. i really, really have. it's just not—"

and xukun sees the lines forming on his forehead, the lines pulling down his lips. before he can cry, xukun pulls him in for a hug.

"it's fine, zhengting," he says again, pressing a kiss against zhengting's ear.

and zhengting closes his eyes so he won't feels worse about it. "it's not you," he starts to say before he can hear himself, and he hears xukun laugh.

"it's not you, it's me? really, babe?"

zhengting sits up, hits xukun lightly on the chest. "but, really!" he says, blinking. looking at xukun for a moment, feeling entirely full and useless. "it's not you..."

and the words won't come out of zhengting's mouth so they make his hands shake. xukun threads their fingers together and kisses the back of zhengting's hand.

"i know you will, zhengting," xukun says, "doesn't matter when.

don't do it for me when you do it. do it for you."

and it's something about the way xukun says it. how cool he sounds, how honest he is. how he's something zhengting has wanted to be his entire life, how he's still trying to be good enough. but he knows xukun will say he's good enough, so he says thank you, instead, and does half of xukun's math homework.

 

—

 

"what are you doing here?"

"i came to watch."

"this is a closed choir practice."

"okay, i'll wait out here."

"..."

"..."

"go home."

"i'll wait."

"seriously."

"seriously."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MISS CLOSURE??MISS CLOSURE??? ik this is so dumb probably but i hope u had FUN


	29. play me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> woogie, sik-k, penomeco

this isn't how it goes. operant conditioning. what you're supposed to do is reward good behavior so it'll happen again, and punish bad behavior so it won't. and zhengting knows this. basic psychology courses aced and a hamster when he was five, he knows this.

but, still. he sits in the car with xukun and waits quietly, in anticipation, lips pursed, as xukun stuffs a pipe full of fresh green herb. and he sucks on the sweet smoke of it in turn, holding a moment in his lungs, stilling his voice when he talks.

"you got him in trouble," he kisses xukun when he's supposed to stay as far away from him as possible.

"i'm sorry," xukun says, almost earnestly, as he leans into the kiss and replays it over and over and over. all tongue-in-each-other's-cheek, box so hot he can barely breathe. so, he takes a bigger inhale because it feels as natural as anything else.

a hit after another, then another. just until smiling becomes easy and muscles relax.

"don't do it again," zhengting whispers between breathing in and a dirty kiss.

xukun nods gingerly, toes curling, fingers grabbing.

 

—

 

the teacher is distracted talking to a disgruntled parent right outside the door, so the class buzzes on with the tired gossip of seven a.m. wenjun sits quietly and stares at the board, looks to the clock, completely capable of staying absolutely still for extended periods of time. but the boy in front of him keeps tapping and tapping and tapping a pencil on the table.

"hey," he leans forward, hand on the boy's arm so he'll stop, "xukun, the tapping's annoying."

"oh," xukun puts his pencil down, "sorry."

wenjun claps his shoulder, says thanks. he leans back in his seat to wait out the time only to find himself leaning forward again.

"what do you think you're doing?" wenjun asks, more of a reprimand than a question for the little silver flask that xukun takes out of his jacket's pocket. "is that a flask? what are you, sixty-years-old?"

xukun chuckles as he pops open the cap. "you talk like zhengting," he says, turning around to face wenjun and hold the flask towards him, "it's rum."

"put it away," wenjun answers, but xukun only pushes the little silver thing towards him.

"drink."

"no."

"come on, just one."

"no..."

"okay, smell it."

"... fine."

 

—

 

weekend feuds and buried arguments aside, zhengting rushes over as soon as justin tells him. wenjun. principal's office. and not for winning an award or some other.

"wenjun, what happened?" he asks, grabbing wenjun's hand as if they haven't been walking on eggshells for days. 

wenjun opens his mouth to answer, but the door opens just as soon. "bi wenjun," the principal calls, and wenjun goes gracefully. patting zhengting's hand and giving him a smile, as if to tell him it'll be fine.

"wait for me," he looks back to zhengting. and zhengting, all forehead crumpled in worry and in utter disbelief, all he can do is nod.

 

—

 

"hey, i'm really sorry about yesterday," xukun says it first, because zhengting had so elaborately planned to leave the both of them alone in wenjun's living room. and they both know he won't come back until he sees a hug or a handshake or a smile.

"it's fine," wenjun says as if it really is, waving a hand, friendly smile in place.

and only months ago, xukun wouldn't even have said the big S word. but something about spending too much time with zhengting and developing as a person makes him say,

"you sure?"

"yeah," wenjun replies, waving his hand again as if to say it's really nothing.

and xukun nods to punctuate the conversation, the both of them quietly sipping on drinks that zhengting had so graciously laid out for them. and xukun won't be the one to say it, to say that the quiet isn't entirely awful, that wenjun isn't the worst company in the world.

"you know he won't come out until we shake hands," xukun says from behind the brim of his cup.

"hug," wenjun corrects him with a grin. chuckling underneath their breaths, clapping each other on the back.

zhengting emerges from where he had been eavesdropping from, bright smile, brighter eyes.

 

—

 

it's lunches spent together laughing over jokes, bumping into each other in the same section of the music store. a mutual love for a boy and a mutual hate for a class that drives them to hiding in the empty auditorium behind the music room in the middle of fourth period.

"ronghao puts me to sleep," wenjun says, and xukun cheers to it with a laugh. bottles of beer stolen from the drama club's secret hiding place clinking, a movie shining off of the projector onto the stage.

xukun puts his feet up on the table and wenjun sits back, turning off the lights in the control room.

"how's the whole thing with zeren," xukun starts, thinking about what zhengting might say. feeling uncomfortable and right, and not entirely used to getting into other people's business.

but zhengting has been tearing his hair out about his friends fighting, and xukun will do anything to keep the person he loves from going completely bald.

"messy," wenjun answers, sipping once and twice.

xukun nods in understanding as he drinks too, eyes trained to the movie in front of them.

"how's zhengting?" wenjun asks.

"worried," xukun replies.

and it's all wenjun can do to nod, too.

because there isn't a fix quite quick enough for mistakes this big, no band-aid that'll hold a wound so deep together. no way to speed up time or put back a broken mirror. and they both know it, so they sit in their comfortable quiet, to old gunshots noises and action movie sound effects, and they drink to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rushed bec this was rotting in my drafts and idk??how to write??BUT I REALLY wanted to write about wenjun and xukun???thanks??? <3


	30. u & me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 서로에게 기대, u & me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: accident + its REALLY short

the clock reads two in the morning, and zhengting should be at home. asleep, or reading a textbook two weeks in advance. not staring at white walls and trying to see through frosted glass.

a hand on his shoulder pulls him back.

“he’ll be fine,” miss cai tells him. and it’s all zhengting can do to nod, to feel a little bad,

 to turn to her and offer a forced smile, "can i get you anything, miss cai?"

"a coffee," she tells him, and zhengting knows that she only says it to get him away from the door. to get him to look at anything that doesn't have xukun behind the glass. but he nods again, and carries his feet best as he can to the vending machine down the hall.

it's not that it was a big thing. it's just that it's xukun, and zhengting has long since lost pictures of his future without him

 

—

 

"do you want another pillow? or another blanket?" zhengting fusses over him as he helps him get into bed. 

xukun smiles. and it's nothing much. just a few stitches to hold his skull together, he says it's a good thing he didn't scratch his face. and zhengting says yeah, it's kind of a miracle. and xukun says, now you have no excuse to leave me. and zhengting hates when he makes jokes like that, so he hits his arm and immediately says sorry.

they don't talk about ziyi, or how he was drunk, driving the both of them home. how they were arguing about what song to put on the radio when a stop sign jumped out of nowhere, how he stepped on the brakes a little too late. but still, none too early.

no serious injuries, they were told. but the police want to talk to them and xukun blew a raspberry, saying they're not the ones who had their heads smashed.

"i'm really thankful you're okay," zhengting says, picking up a bowl of soup from the bedside table to help xukun eat. and he has said it exactly one hundred times in one night, all xukun can do is smile (because laughing makes his head throb, and they told him the stitches will hold together, but he still doesn't want them to rip apart.)

zhengting blows on the spoon and holds it to xukun's mouth. and xukun hates it but he lets it happen, because its easier than arguing again.

"how're your college applications?" xukun asks as they wait for six o'clock, medicine cocktail sitting ready right beside him.

"they're fine," zhengting says, and xukun can never understand why he always brushes it off.

"didn't they start sending back letters? i know yanchen got his."

zhengting holds another spoonful of chicken soup to his mouth. and xukun knows it's just to shut him up, but he eats quietly anyway.


	31. baby, it's cold outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy holigays

"what's going on with you?" wenjun asks for what feels like the five-hundredth-time in the day. he watches zhengting shuffle through papers and folders and pencils and pens, forehead scrunched up like trashed ideas. and as long as they've been trying to plan the school christmas party (nine hours and thirty-six minutes, to be exact), zhengting has had the same worn look on his face.

"nothing," zhengting says, sounding as snippy as he did when he first entered the room and snapped at chengcheng for drinking water straight out of the bottle.

wenjun pauses, eases a manila envelope out of zhengting's claw, and places a water bottle in his hand. "let's take a break," he says softly, uncapping the bottle and waiting until zhengting visibly swallows. he sits him down and waits for the lines in between his eyebrows to smooth over.

zhengting sighs, and wenjun knows what he's is about to say before he even says it.

" _i miss xukun_ ," zhengting frowns, head collapsing onto wenjun's shoulder.

 

\--

 

zhengting is whiny and testy for all of three more days it takes for xukun to return. all hair grown out, new ratty leather jacket and shiny second-hand bike. and zhengting, in all his excitement running from the exit to the rest of his life, he practically trips and smashes his face into the carpark asphalt.

"I MISSED YOU," he yells right into xukun's ear, all arms tight around his neck. a few students turn to look at the noise, and although eyes still linger and strangers still stare, a few months was really all it took for the school to stop being so, so, so, _so, so_ scandalized about the student body president dating the degenerate ashtray.

xukun laughs softly, as if he's glad to hear it. as if he expected zhengting to say it, as if he has been waiting all this time to say it back: "i missed you too," he rubs zhengting's back, and coughs when his lungs start feeling numb with all the squeezing. 

zhengting laughs, squeals in whispers and tiny giggles pushed into xukun's neck. he hugs him tighter and tighter and tighter, until xukun says okay babe i can't breathe, okay zhengting let goletgo. "sorry," he throws the word into the air. and when he presses a quick kiss onto xukun's lips, it becomes clear that he doesn't mean it.

that zhengting isn't sorry for anything. unapologetic for missing him, and being in love with him. and telling just about everyone about him.

"how was your trip?" zhengting asks, arm around xukun's waist about as natural as xukun's arm around his shoulders, "did you get that tree topper i told you about?"

 

\--

 

three knocks on the door. and xukun tries not to run so he won't sweat all over his expensive polo shirt.

three more knocks on the door. and xukun clears his throat, looking down to make sure all the buttons are in the right place.

"we're 'gonna be late. are you read-" zhengting pauses when he looks up.

he stares for a moment before breaking into a laugh. "is that what you're wearing?" 

xukun's wide eyes grow impossibly wider, the cheerful yellow of the christmas lights strung up around the doorway reflecting in his pupils. and he looks down at his dorky blue shirt, funeral gray slacks and freshly polished black shoes. flamingo necktie safely tied in place. then he looks back up at zhengting with the same expression on his face, "what?"

"aww," zhengting coos, unable to help himself from stepping forward, holding xukun's face between his hands and planting the sweetest kiss on his pouty lips. but it's all for novelty, and he steps back to take in xukun again. the slight crumple in the sleeves of his shirt, the godawful thing hanging around his neck. 

zhengting wants to laugh again but he can't help the smile that stretches across his lips, "they're going to love you.

but let's buy you a new tie on the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is.....the end ...ish? mwa


End file.
